Misery Loves Company
by xtotallyatpeacex
Summary: Laugh. Cry. Be embarrassed as Katie Bell and her friends make their way through O.W.L. year with detentions, boyfriends, Quidditch and drunken nights out.
1. The BIG Question

**Title:** Misery Loves Company

**Summary:** Laugh. Cry. Be embarrassed as Katie Bell and her friends make their way through O.W.L. year with detentions, boyfriends, Quidditch and drunken nights out.

**Category:** Humour/Romance/General

**Rating:** T – swearing and occasional references (you know the kind)

**A/N:** Okay, this is just a light hearted story about Katie and her friends. It's going to be full of randomness. All told from Katie's point of view. This story is not meant to be taken seriously, It's not going to turn into some knock down, all out war where Katie falls pregnant and then leaves for China in a miserable exile only to return nine years later and discover that so and so is actually _not_ the father of her baby.

If you were hoping for a story like that, you will be severely disappointed (but feel free to read this anyway). And if you don't think this story is funny, and that it's stupid and ridiculously hideous- well, good for you. Please don't flame me, but constructive criticism is apprec- I mean, allowed. There might be some events from the third book, but forgive me if it doesn't follow the exact dialogue as I do not own the Harry Potter books (seriously, I don't own a copy. I just borrow them from the library) and so I can't remember all of it.

Who actually reads the author notes anyway? If you do, review and tell me :P. I always do; you never know when the author _actually_ has something important to say (which most likely isn't the case here). I promise this will be the longest author note in the ENTIRE story. Just to make that clear. Now, I won't keep you any longer (the notes are almost longer than the chapter itself!) Here is chapter one of Misery Loves Company:

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**October 5th**

"Quick! He's not looking!" I hiss at Fred and George when I peer around the corner. Fred and George salute then drop to the ground and begin belly crawling along the castle floor.

Why were the Weasley twins attempting to sneak around a corner, army style? Oliver Dugald Wood, captain of Gryffindor Quidditch team and an all round pain in the arse, is standing there and talking to Percy Ignitius Weasley, my least favourite person of all time- after Oliver, that is.

Just as I try to copy the twins, a voice behind me asks, "What are you doing, Bell?" in a bored, dreary monotone. You know how in movies actors turn around really slowly when they know their time is up and they have to face their worst enemy? Yeah, that's how I turn around to face Snape, except I stop halfway through so I am looking at the bottom of the wall instead.

"Uh… practicing for an audition in the army?" I ask, trying to get myself out of trouble. If anybody asks, I have the worst talking skills ever. I usually only manage to dig a deeper hole for myself. I wish George would speak up, he's an excellent charmer. I'm not sure if it works on Snape though, but you never know, he might be bi.

"Get up, Bell," he snaps in an I-can-actually-see-past-my-extrodanirily-large-nose-and-I-know-what-you're-trying-to-do voice. His normal voice.

I stand up slowly; desperately hoping my oversized brain will come up with some good excuse like "I was looking for my toothbrush!" I blurt out, and then clap a hand over my mouth. Whoops. I have this problem where I talk before I think. I reckon it's an actual medical condition, but Lee keeps insisting it's not, and that I'm just stupid. Well damn him. Look where my disease has gotten me now, you git!

Snape looks almost… amused? I must've caught him on a good day. The twin's jaws are going to drop when they hear that even Snape has good days… he must be human after all, not a kelpie in disguise as our worst nightmare, like they kept telling us he was last night. Alicia actually believed them.

"Well, Miss Bell, you can look for your toothbrush in my dungeon tonight," he drawls, waiting for my reaction.

I'm confused. Why would I have a reaction? It's not like this isn't a regular occurrence… "But it's practice!" I say indignantly. When he shows no sign of relenting when he's yelled at, I try a different approach. "Please, sir," I say sweetly, ignoring the cough-turned-choke coming from behind me. "We have practice tonight. And, you know, we really need it, because we haven't won in years…" the choking has turned into offended snorts.

"No. See you at eight, Miss Bell. You know where they are." And with that, the bloody vampire walks away with a swish of his stupid cape. I hope he trips on it, the stupid prick. I relish the thought of Snape tripping on his cape and choking himself, until a tall figure stands right in front of me.

"Bell!" What is with everyone calling me by my last name? Is there some sign of my forehead that states, 'Thou must call this person Bell'? I don't think so.

"Yes Ollie?" I ask sweet-as-sugar. It pisses him off no end, when we call him that. That's why we do it. My whole purpose for being on the team is to piss him off, it's so fun to think of revenge when you're doing fifty laps around the Quidditch pitch in pouring rain and hail.

Oliver's trying to keep his temper in; I can tell by the way that his face is getting all red and they way he's clenching his fists and how he keeps taking long, shuddering breaths. Hehe. "What did you go and do that for?"

"Do what?" Now that I think of it, I wasn't actually _doing_ anything. For all he knows, I _could_ have been looking for my toothbrush. On the third floor corridor. Crawling on my stomach.

"Get detention, Bell! What were you thinking!"

I was thinking that if Fred and George could do it, so could I. "Uh, that I wanted to brush my teeth?"

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Get out of my sight, Bell!"

I smirk, only too happy to obey. Now, to find those Weasleys…

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I am sitting in the Gryffindor common room, trying to figure out the whole mumbo-jumbo that is this week's Divination homework. I love Divination; it's my favourite subject, seriously… Actually, I think it's the worst subject that Hogwarts has to offer and I'm not sure why Dumbledore insists that it be an option. I hate it along with every other soul in this entire school, except for some girl in third year that loves it. I can't remember her name, something like Chrysanthemum, or Ginger, or Eucalyptus… It's a flower or herb, I dunno.

"Ah, peering into the future," someone comments over my shoulder, jabbing a finger at the parchment. For a moment I think it's Alicia; she has a habit of doing that. But then I realise the sarcastic voice is Lee's, the only person in our year that can match the high sarcastic standards I have set.

"Yeah," I reply, dropping my quill and giving him a puppy-dog-you-know-you-can't-say-no look. He is the _best_ at coming up with shit like, 'tomorrow I will go for a walk and fall down a giant crater that an asteroid from mars created. Then I will attempt to get out only to be zapped up by aliens who will mutilate me until I am unrecognisable and devour me as a midnight snack.' Seriously, I wrote that once… and a got a 'E' for it. I am brilliant.

He sighs loudly, flopping onto the couch next to me and giving me a mock-disappointed look. "Now, Bell. Do I really have to say this again? I will not do you homework for you, or make up cruel, morbid stories about how you are going to slip on a banana and fall into a swimming pool, only to have some inconsiderate person hit a bludger into it and it will hit you in the head. Then just as you are about to die, Fudge dive bombs I and lands on top of you, so you die anyway." He sits back and pretends to polish his nails, looking mightily pleased with himself.

I grin at him. "Wow, thanks Lee! You're the best!" I give him a hug and quickly write all that he just said down. My essay '_Reading your life lines_' is going to be the best. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I got an 'O'.

When I notice that Lee's not doing anything, just staring into the fire on the other side of the room and the kids who are playing Wizard Chess next to it are looking at him all weird, I give him a shake. "Earth to Lee," I say, waving a hand in front of his face.

He jumps out of his 'reverie'. God, I love that word, it sounds so… _sophisticated._ "Sorry, Bell, what were you saying?" he asks apologetically.

"What? Some girl on your mind?" I tease him. Lee is almost as much fun as Oliver to tease, except Lee doesn't take it seriously and he's a lot more fun to be around. _And_ he teases back, it's almost like a tradition, just the way that Fred and Ange flirt with each other, and George and Alicia are so in tune with each other… hey! It's almost like our little group's paired off. Except for the fact that everyone is yet to get together.

Oh my god. Does that mean I think that I am somehow subconsciously hoping that Lee and I will get together, just as Angelina and Fred and George and Alicia are destined to be? Not that it would be a bad thing, but I've never really thought about it before…

"Bell? Hello? Anybody home?" Now Lee is the one who's waving his hand in front of my face.

I push it away laughingly. "What?"

Lee rolls his eyes. Now that I'm looking at him, he definitely looks uncomfortable, and he's slightly red in the face. "Do you need to go to the toilet?" I ask him bluntly.

Lee looks surprised. "No," he answers.

"Then what? You're all red, and you look like you're busting or something." Way to go Katie, just tell the guy he looks like he's constipated; that'll boost his ego.

This time, Lee _definitely _blushes. "Actually, Katie, Iwaswonderingifyou'dliketogotoHogsmeadewithme," he mumbles REALLY fast.

I blink. "What?" I ask unintelligently.

Lee takes a deep breath and looks like he's deciding whether or not to strangle me. Thankfully, he chooses the latter. "I said, 'I-was-wondering-if-you'd-like-to-go-to-Hogsmeade-with-me.'"

I stare at him. Wow. I actually understood that, I can't tell which one I'm more impressed by: the fact that I understand him or the fact that Lee Jordan, Quidditch commentator and all around practical joker, who is one of the most popular guys in our entire year, is asking ME to go to Hogsmeade with him. Was this some sort of test that Fred and George put him up to? Because if it was, I swear I'm going to-

"Never mind," Lee mutters, standing up and practically running up the stairs before I can say 'yes'.

Great. One of my best friends asks me out and runs off before I can say yes, so our entire friendship is probably ruined. I have a detention with Snape and no one's going to be joining me. Not even Alicia or Angie, who sometimes have detention, and not even Fred and George who more than sometimes have detention. What a lousy failure this day turned out to be.

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Reveiw!


	2. Misery Really DOES Love Company

**Misery Loves Company: Chapter 2: Misery really _does_ love company**

**A/N:** Hello again! Merry Christmas! Or happy Christmas. Or whatever your religion or belief is. I am so sorry about the long wait, because I was actually planning on updating a bit sooner (yeah, right) but when I went to upload it, it turns out that the bloody computer had deleted the file or something, so I had to start all over again. From scratch. So that's probably why this chapter has so much swearing in it. Because I am not a happy chappie.

And thanks to **lucid-03-days** for reviewing not once, but twice! You're my new best friend. (Joke. Joke. It's okay, I'm kidding… no need to be frightened.) And thanks also to **LilJeste**r, **DraclingCaregiver**,** MotherCrumpet** and **shadow929** for reviewing! I really appreciate it, especially since I didn't expect to debut so well, especially since shadow929 mentioned that there aren't very many Lee/Katie fans. But that's ok- all us have to stick together, right? Lol. And anyway, this story isn't just about Lee/Katie; it's also about Alicia, Angelina, Fred and George… kinda. But they're in it, anyway. So anyone who likes them can read it, I guess.

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**October 5th (late)**

Damn Snape! Damn him to hell! Do you know what he made me do? Yeah, collect fricking _spiders _from the _Forbidden Forest _to help him with his twisted version of a _pepper up potion_. Seriously. And why is the Forbidden Forest forbidden, Snape? Because it's _dangerous._

Unfortunately, when I mentioned this fact to him, he sneered as if that were the stupidest idea in the world (a forest with dementors and escaped convicts and death eaters dangerous! Never! Ha I can just imagine the front page of the _Daily Prophet_: GIRL ATTACKED AND ROASTED TO DEATH BY SPIDERS WHILE UNDER FORMER DEATH EATER CARE. Well. It could happen.) and gave me an extra hour in the forest for 'obvious statements'. What the hell?

And on top of that I swear I saw a really freaky looking black thing. It might have been an extraordinarily large rabbit, but one can never be too sure. (God, I'm even starting to sound like Percy!) Anyway, I dropped the one spider I managed to kill (I certainly wasn't going to be collecting them _alive!_) and then a bigger spider came up and ate it. And _then_ it pointed its freaking pincer things at me, and so I screamed and ran away.

The moral of the story is, Snape knows I suffer from arachnophobia, and he still made me go and get them. He knows this because of that time in third year when Lee, being the ignorant fricking prat he is, dropped his bloody tarantula down my back and I fainted into my measles-simulating formula. And because I was working with Alicia, it was extra good. So I spent the next week in the hospital wing, and the next two after that itching and scratching like crazy. Believe me, Lee sucked up to me for about a month after that.

And then because I started hyperventilating as soon as I was a safe distance away from the spider, it took me _ages_ to calm down and by then it was too late and I hadn't gotten any spiders. Not that I would have anyway, but still. So now I have another week of detention, and our freaking Quidditch obsessed, has no life captain will kill me. So shoot me already.

So now I'm sitting on the common room couch, trying to decide whether or not to eat the chocolate in my hand because the other day at Quidditch practice Wood told me to 'lose a kilo or two'. I mean, it's bad enough that girls tell each other that they need to lose weight, but a guy? When he stoops _that_ low, you know he's a bimbo-chasing man-whore. Or a bastard. But I don't think he is a bimbo chasing man-whore, because he doesn't have time for bimbos, he has to think up incredibly complicated plays so we can actually _win_ this year.

And I'm all alone and wallowing in my misery. I mean, I can practically _feel_ the spider still looking at me… ugh. I really need a new phobia. Like corners. God, that would be funny. 'Excuse me, miss! I can't come into the classroom because it has corners and I'm afraid of corners!' … whatever.

I was just snickering to myself quietly (well, more like guffawing…) when I heard a voice behind me.

"Katie?" it quietly asks.

I whirl around; that voice sounds familiar. Oh… of course. It's Alicia, because she's the only one that EVER calls me Katie. To everybody else I'm 'Bell'. God, that could almost sound perverted, if you squint your eyes and turn your head to one side…

"Can I have some of your chocolate?" Alicia asks meekly. Maybe because of the expression of my face, but it's downright sad when even your best friend is intimidated of you.

I move over so that she can sit beside me, and break off a hunk of chocolate and give it to her. God knows she needs it- she's as skinny as a stick. I bet Wood's never insulted her about _her_ own weight.

"Thanks, Katie," Alicia sighs and flops down on the couch. It's an unspoken rule in our group- chocolate cures everything, from dementor winters to a boo boo on your finger. It makes you feel better. Fred reckons we just think it does, but I know better. It has secret healing powers, which magically make you feel better, so it's always best to keep some handy.

"So. What's wrong?" I ask concernedly. I may not be known for my listening abilities like 'Lic, but I can still lend a caring ear when I need to. How generous am I? I mean, even with all my problems, I am still caring enough to listen to my best friend in her hour of need.

Alicia sighs loudly. "I think I'm going to fail my O.W.L.'s!" she wails.

Seriously. I am speechless. (The only other time that happened was last year in DADA with Lockhart, and he was telling us about how he "is a role model for teenagers in disadvantaged countries, such as America and the United Kingdom." Nobody actually TOLD him that we are in the UK, we just let him make a dick of himself.) I can't believe that Alicia is so worked up about a bloody TEST. I mean, it's just SCHOOL. All it does is decide on your future, which job you'll have, possibly your life partner, where you'll live…

I mention all this to Alicia, but it doesn't help. In fact, if anything I think I made it worse… She starts sobbing hysterically, and all I can do is pat her on the back lamely and say, "well, if you're going to fail, what'll happen to me? I mean, you're the _smart_ one around here. You _can't_ fail."

Did I mention I am the lamest comforter in the world?

"What's going on?" a voice asks.

Without even glancing up, I know it's Ange. And I have to admit- she sounds weird. When I turn away from 'Lic, I can tell- she looks shit. Her face is all blotchy and her hair is all messed up and sticking everywhere. That must mean she's been crying, and Angelina NEVER cries. I mean, I think I've seen her cry once, and that was in first year when the then current captain (Charlie Weasley) wouldn't let her on the Quidditch team because she was a lowly first year.

"Give me some chocolate," she commands, taking it and breaking off an absolute HUGE piece.

"Give it back!" I say, snatching it off her and moving over so she can sit down and pour out her terribly complicated teenage troubles.

Before I can even ask, she breaks down. "Fred and I had a fight!" she exclaims, like it's something unusual. I mean, they fight twenty-four/ seven. It's an hourly occurrence, practically. One time I went down to the common room in the middle of the night (I can't remember why the hell why) and they were at each other's throats, about a lost quill or something.

"So?" I say blankly.

Alicia momentarily stops crying and pats my hand sympathetically. "Katie, Katie, Katie." She says gently, like she's talking to an old dog or something. "Can't you see? Ange and Fred actually _like_ each other, but they're both too stubborn to admit it. And this was a serious fight, not those stupid ones about quills." Hmm… so I _didn't_ dream about the quills- the whole house must have heard it too.

Ange doesn't even start screaming at her, the way she would if anyone ever even _suggested_ that. Alicia just exudes this 'be nice to me' vibe, and everyone seems to totally respond to it. God, the things I would do if I had that ability…

But anyway. "We were just having a normal argument," Ange says, eating some more chocolate. "But then he's like, 'I bet Roger Davies wouldn't argue with you all the time.' And I'm like, 'what's that supposed to mean?' and so he goes, 'I'm just saying you wouldn't fight with Davies all the time if you were with him.' And I'm like, 'I wouldn't _want _to be with him. And as far as I know, I'm not with you either.' And so he goes, 'whatever. You're so blind, Ange. Talk to me when you realise a few things.'"

Wow. She makes Fred actually sound mature. Ha. Never thought I'd see the day. And I'm willing to bet that there was a lot more to that argument than she's letting on. Still, I'd better play dumb. "Oh Ange," I say sympathetically, "I don't get it."

Ange ignores me and burries her head in her hands. "I can't _believe_ how stupid I am…" she mutters. And then a whole lot of cursing follows.

I cross my arms indignantly. "Hello? Isn't anyone going to ask about _my_ day?"

"Sorry darling," Ange looks up from her mutterings to say sarcastically, "how was your day?"

"Fricking shit," I reply bitterly. Lee hasn't talked to me the whole rest of the day, and I think he's ignoring me. I mean, when I walked over to him and Fred and George before, he's all, "I have to go to the library, guys." I didn't even know that the word 'library' was even in Lee's vocabulary. But if that's the way he's going to be, and he won't even hear me out, then fuck him. I won't be the first to cave.

"Aw," Alicia says, putting an arm around me.

Hmm. I'm starting to feel a little better. If only the spiders would go away…

So Angelina is still muttering curses, Alicia's still crying and I'm kicking the chair opposite as hard as I can. It doesn't make me feel better (it hurts), but knowing that my buddies had just as shit a day as I did make me smug. Ha. Misery really _does_ love company.

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Review please! Think about it this way; the more you review, the more people will read it, so the more reviews I'll get, and then I'll _have_ to update the story sooner. And… reviews make nice xmas pressies! Lol. 


	3. Not QUITE That Desperate

**A/N:** Omg you guys! I can't BELIEVE how many reviews I got. Thank you all so much! Keep it up please! Okay, this time my excuse is that my internet shut down for days. And really and truly, it's actually true. So on to the awards: a special thanks to **Banoffee** for reviewing twice, and also a special thanks to **sarcastic spastic**, **Annimouse**, **EmO-pEaNuT-bUtTeR-cUp**, **shadow929**, **LilJester**, **lucid-03-days**, **freaker1605**, **CatherineMcq**, **swimchick1614**, and **MotherCrumpet**.

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**October 6th**

"Bye!" I give Alicia and then Angelina a hug each before heading to Muggle Studies. It's the class I've been dreading all day- the one no one else has with me, if you don't count Lee. Normally we sit together, but for some reason- maybe because he thinks I hate him? - I don't think that's going to be happening any time soon.

I walk into the musty old classroom. It smells. Our teacher, Professor Jervois, reminds me a lot of Mr Weasley. They are both _obsessed_ with muggle things, but I think Mr Weasley is even keener than Jervois. Which is actually scary, if you think about it.

Fred and George don't take this class because their dad already knows practically everything about it, and they have to spend the whole summer listening to him. Alicia is a muggle-born, so she doesn't even need to take it. Ange's mum is a pureblood, but her dad is a muggleborn, so even though the muggles in her family are like three generations ago, she still knows a thing or two.

Unfortunately, while my dad is a pureblood, my mum is a half-and-half because her father was a pureblood and her mother was muggle. So I suppose I'm a pureblood, although one would never know. My mum insists that me and my three brothers be 'educated' about the 'muggle world' and so we have been to every muggle museum there ever was. Well, only the ones in England. And it's not so fun looking at a replica of an old pair of shiny red shoes, let me tell you. I have nothing against muggles, don't get me wrong.

It's not like I look down my nose or anything at them- apart from old Mrs Crevasse next door who is always accusing me of throwing things at her mangy cat- but seriously. (Why do they need a _yellow_ brick road? What's wrong with normal grey? Or even purple. Yeah, retro munchkins!) So that's why my mum insisted I take it. I also took it because I knew Lee was taking it, and so we could struggle through the class together. (Well, that and the only other option was Arithmancy. God, I hate numbers. They are just so WEIRD.)

And Lee's a pureblood, so he took it. Mostly because Alicia keeps talking about all these muggle things, like cars and movies and he's the only one who has no clue what she's going on about.

I look around the class. I am not a snob, but because I have at least one friend in all my classes, I have never really bothered hanging around with anyone else apart from our group. Which really sucks now that Lee and I aren't talking. I am really going to have to make more of an effort to be nice to others. Most people just look at me like I'm mentally deranged or something. They're just jealous because of my… uh, people skills. Yeah.

But whatever. Most of the class is already here, but there are still a fair few desks empty. I go over and sit at one on the far side of the class, next to an old grotty window. I can still SEE the greasy finger marks from students that went here twenty years ago.

Ouch. I just banged my knee on the desk and there was a fricking bolt in the side. I think I'm bleeding. Oh my god I'm going to die of blood loss. Not that it will be such a tragic event, the way my life is going lately.

Just as I was thinking about how I would break the news to my poor, weary mother, Lee walks in the door. He doesn't even look for me- just walks in and sits next to some slut from Ravenclaw. And the slut from Ravenclaw is sitting two rows in front of me and one row over.

What's her name again? I know it's strange. Like a plant or something. Tree… Rainbow… Sunny… Oh, that's it! Stormie McNamara. Jeez, I can almost feel sorry for her. Imagine having parents cruel enough to name you Stormie, then actually expect you to _go along with it_.

Anyway. Stormie McNamara is the biggest bitch in Ravenclaw, possibly the whole year. (Not the whole school, this kid named Draco Malfoy takes care of that). She is constantly surrounded by her cronies, these two idiots who I can't remember the names of. I mean, how did they even get IN to Ravenclaw, anyway? I could have made it in there, if I was just a bit smarter…

Oh well. Gryffindor rocks! Apart from the minor fact we haven't won the Quidditch cup for years and the House cup for like three. But those are minor details.

Her uniform is about four sizes too small for her, so she's practically bursting out of it. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's poor and disadvantaged. Her father works for the Ministry in the Department of Accidental Magic, and he's like the head of it or something. I heard someone say once he makes almost as much as the Minister himself. They could have been exaggerating, but still. That is a FREAKING LOT.

She wears about ten layers of make-up each day, including bright red lipstick (I'm sorry, but that should just be OUTLAWED) and spark-ly blue eye shadow. Her foundation is so dark it looks like she's gone and stuck only her head in a tanning studio (I actually had no idea what a tanning studio was, until Alicia made a comment about her one day).

She has unnatural blonde hair (I think it's been bleached) and unnatural blue eyes. Alicia said she wears contacts, but I think contacts are only for when you're as blind as a bat. Of course I didn't say that out loud, because Alicia wears reading glasses. Still, I call her four eyes and now she's so used to it she even _responds_ to it. I've trained her. She's a good little puppy.

Oh God. She's got her arm around his, and is busy fluttering her oh-so-fake eyelashes at him. And he actually seems like he's ENJOYING himself. If we were friends at the moment I would go up and pull her head out of his arse. But I'll just sit back and enjoy the show. See if you're getting any help now, mister.

Who am I kidding? I'm not enjoying this- it's torture! And what makes it worse is the fact that I'm sitting next to a greasy window all by myself like a loser. I wish someone would come sit next to me, and walk past Lee so he could see I get on okay without him. At this stage I'd even be willing for Lachlan Turris to come over, and everyone knows he is the world's BIGGEST jerk, on account of how he picks his nose and then wipes it on the table, so when you put your arm up it attaches itself to your sleeve and then when you go to itch it, the gooby touches your finger and then you forget so you bite your nails and it turns out all you're really doing is eating Lachlan Turris' boogie.

Okay. So maybe I'm not quite THAT desperate. But pretty close. Someone had better- oh, hello! Oh my God. Cedric Diggory has chosen to come and sit next to me. CEDRIC DIGGORY. So I don't even like him- I'm still allowed to be awed in his presence, no? Whatever. I remember in third year, when Alicia had this MASSIVE crush on him, but it turned out he was so nice that she just totally got over him, just like that. Which was good, because every time George saw him, he tried to punch his daylights out.

"Is this seat taken?" Cedric asks, turning to smile at me. Unfortunately, my heart does not flutter, I do not feel faint and I don't get butterflies in my stomach the way most girls would if he had just randomly gone and sat next to them.

"No!" I blurt out, relieved that somebody- anybody- had chosen to take me out of my misery because I was a loner. "No one's sitting here!"

It occurs to me that I might sound a bit desperate. Ah- to hell with it. He probably didn't even notice.

"Thanks." He sits down in the chair gracefully- nothing like Lee would. He'd pull out a chair noisily, then thump down in it loud enough for the entire class to look over to see whose cat he's killing.

He looks like he's about to say something, but then Professor Jervois comes in and starts going on about '' or something. She's saying how it's going to be in our O.W.L. While she's droning on, I look around the class listlessly. Most students have their full attention on her, but some are looking around the class like me. Some are just staring out windows or at nothing.

I can still see the Ravenclaw bitch's head. Her 'ah-bright-light' hair is resting on his shoulder. Grrr. And I am NOT jealous, just because Lee can find someone who fawns over him like a lost chicken. I mean, I would be SEVERELY annoyed if that was happening to Fred or George. After all, they are destined to be with two of my other best friends- Angelina and Alicia. I could not have some skank try and throw themselves at the poor, unsuspecting Weasleys, could I?

Yeah. At that precise moment, Lee turns around and our eyes come into contact. He tries to remain impassive, but because I am the higher life form (and maybe the fact I've known him for, oh, five years) I am going to beat him at this staring game. Out-staring Lee has always been a piece of cake, except for that one time last year when George put a freezing jinx on him and made me and Lee see who could out stare each other. Lee won by a mile, seeing as how he couldn't blink and all.

It was around five minutes after we had been going at it that Cedric finally got my attention. "Uh, Katie?" he asks.

I try to ignore the fact that he has three heads, and that they're doing the foxtrot. "Yeah, Cedric?"

"Pro-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"How do you know my name?" I demand. Maybe he's like some sort of obsessive compulsive stalker. Cool.

He blinks confusedly. "Uh, maybe 'cause you're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" he says, like I'm a little slower than average or something.

"Oh." I say. "Right."

"How do you know mine?" Cedric returns.

"Duh. 'Cause my best friend Alicia had a massive crush on you in third year, but then 'cause you were so nice she totally got over you which was good because George kept trying to strangle you every time you came anywhere near us." I finish brightly. Then I clap a hand over my mouth. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that Alicia had a MASSIVE crush on him. Just a crush would have been sufficient.

"Really?" Cedric seems to find this extremely interesting. I, on the other hand, am bored. It's so two years ago.

"Yeah," I reply, my attention now placed on the bimbo and her target. It's so fake! She's practically drooling over him. It's sickening to watch, actually.

"So, Katie," Cedric says conversationally.

"What?" I ask, still putting the evil eye on Windy-girl over there.

"Do you want to go for a walk around the lake after class?" Cedric asks smoothly.

I stop staring at the two lovebirds (after resisting the urge to shout, "Get a room!") and pause to look at Cedric, my jaw hanging open. "Huh?" I reply unintelligently.

This is the reason why I am never going to ever get a boyfriend. I will die alone, wallowing in my misery with seven dogs (I hate cats) and four budgies. Because every time a boy asks me out, it takes me like five minutes to comprehend the fact that they asked ME and not the girl (or boy) sitting to the left of me.

"Do you want to go for a walk around the lake after class?" Cedric repeats, ever composed and relaxed.

Just then something catches my eye. Lee has turned around and is eavesdropping on our conversation. Humph. Didn't his mummy ever tell him it's rude to listen to grown up's conversations? "Alright, Cedric," I say, conscious of the fact that Lee is doing the squinty-eye thing on me. It's not going to work, Lee. Because, unlike SOME PEOPLE, Cedric actually WAITS for a response before running away like the coward I so-know-you-are.

"Cool," Cedric says, gathering his books up as the bell rings. "Are you ready to go now?"

"Yeah," I reply dismally. Because Alicia's right- Cedric IS too nice. I mean, he's all right for a little while, but when you have to spend like, more than ten minutes with him, it gets kind of annoying. But I know Lee's still staring at the back of my head, so I nod and follow him (Cedric, not Lee) out of the classroom.

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**A/N: **So I forgot. Is Cedric Diggory the same age as the twins and all them? 'Cos I know Katie's not REALLY the same age as Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George and Lee. But I made her in this story. Oh well. Again, in this story Cedric can be the same age. And I was thinking of putting the author note in chapter one at the bottom, because I think it's turning people of the story… whoops… what do you think? 


	4. I Didn't MEAN It!

**A/N: **Hey! Oh my god, you guys, I only got eight reviews. :( Sigh. Oh well. I think I like this chapter the best so far, I dunno why. Anyway, a special thanks to **lucid-03-days** for reviewing twice, and also to **CatherineMcq**, **Banoffee**, **MotherCrumpet**, **LilJester**, **shadow929**,** sarcastic spastic **for reviewing, let's see if I can get more…? Lol. And happy almost Australia Day… to anyone out there who lives in Australia.

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**October 6th (later)**

Okay. So I totally didn't mean it. Like, with the dementors and all, sucking the happiness out of our poor, already-shrivelled-and-mangled souls, it was freezing. Fucking freezing.

And I guess I was, you know, shivering so much I couldn't think straight (like I can anyway) and just… knocked the poor bloke for a sixer. Plus one.

The truth is, I knocked Cedric Diggory out cold, and he then just HAPPENED to fall in the ice-cold, so-fricking-cold-it-could-freeze-your-light-bulb-and-crack-it cold lake.

I mean, it wasn't ENTIRELY my fault. So yeah, a wack on the head and he was out like a light. (Seriously. I mean, he's a Quidditch player. You'd think he'd have a little more GALL. But apparently not.)

It was all Lee's fault. Yeah, I know what you're thinking- just because I'm pissed at him doesn't mean I should accuse him of trying to kill a classmate, right?

Well. Maybe not. But it was his fault anyway. Me and Cedric were having a perfectly nice (if effing freezing and muddy) stroll around the picturesque lake. Well, I was strolling. Rather fast, actually. And when Cedric had to run to keep up with me, I was shivering so much that when I saw what I thought was Lee up ahead, I thew my arms up and hit him in the face. If it wasn't so sad it would be funny.

It turned out to be a tree, though. I mean, of COURSE Lee wasn't spying on me with Cedric. Who would even DO such a thing?

Anyway, Cedric fell in the lake and when I helped pull him out his face was blue. And I was like, 'Are you okay?' and he goes, 'Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?'

See what I mean? He's just so NICE. And so I told him that I didn't want his jacket, on account of it being wet and all, but then he looked sad. So I took the stupid jacket. AND I even put it on to make him happy. Because since he was being so nice, I figured I could learn a thing or two from such a nice person. And so you know where that got me?

Yeah, that'd be the hospital wing. And for some reason, all these second years were playing some sort of game and broke all their bones. So she has this great long line of broken-boned people to attend to while I am sniffling and sneezing and wheezing all the way over here.

So maybe Cedric has it a little worse, seeing as how ALL his clothes are wet. But he's still being so nice about it. I apologised for punching him into the lake, and he's all, 'Don't worry about it, Katie. Anytime.'

That was what he said. And I quote, 'Anytime.' I'm already planning another expedition around the lake…

Only kidding. I wish someone would come and visit me. I'm starting to feel lonesome, because all the little second years that have their little fractures fixed are coming up and going, "Oh my god! Are you REALLY Cedric Diggory? Can I touch you?" I mean, who knew twelve-year-olds even THOUGHT that way?

I know I didn't. I was so innocent… an innocence that was swept away by Fred and George as soon as I turned thirteen. Well okay, maybe it was swept away before that, but still.

"Katie! Are you okay?" ah, speaking of my little fan club, here they come…

"Well," I say, grimacing. "I'm feeling a little sick." I let out a couple of fake coughs for good measure.

"Oh, you poor thing!" That's Alicia for you, always the mother hen. "What happened?"

"Well, I say weakly, "It's a long story…" My voice trails off pathetically.

"We have a while," Angelina says, sitting down roughly on _my_ bed.

"It all started when I went for a walk around the lake," I began.

"The lake? As in the school lake? In the freezing cold?" Angelina interrupts.

"Yeah," I whine. "And I thought I saw… um, a tree, and so I threw up my hands to say, 'Oh my god, what a pretty tree!', except I accidentally hit Cedric- did I mention he was my walking buddy?- and he kinda went unconscious and fell in the lake."

"Oh my god!" Alicia yells. "Is he _dead_?"

I stare at her for a moment, before she contains herself and sits back down on the bed calmly. "No," I say in a duh-if-he-was-don't-you-think-I'd-be-in-Azkaban-with-all-the-other-murderers-and-lolly-stealing-people? Kind of voice. "It was okay, 'cause the cold water woke him up so he didn't drown or anything. But then he asked if I was cold, and gave me his coat, and when I said I didn't want it he insisted and so I put it on and now I'm sick and stuck waiting for Madame Pomfry to finish with all the little midget second years who are so stupid they think that if you jump off the roof without a broom they can still fly because they're magic." I say really fast. Well, I think that's what the second years were doing. I'm not too sure.

"That is so sweet!" Alicia shouts shrilly, clapping her hands and looking all lovey-dovey.

Ange and I exchange glances. "Aren't you in love with George?" I remind her.

"Yeah, but- hey! That was a dirty trick," she exclaims. Ange and I have been trying for _ages_ to get her to admit her feelings for George, but I've never actually tried asking her directly. Sigh. How stupid and idiotic we are…

I shrug nonchalantly. "Too bad."

"Anyway," Angelina interrupts. I've really got to get her out of the interrupting habit. It's driving me insane, just like Alicia's finger pointing habit. And my talking-before thinking habit. That annoys me too. And Lee's asking girls out but not actually waiting for an answer habit. That really pisses me off. And Fred's-

"We all know Katie secretly pines for-" Drum roll- "Lee," she finishes, ignoring my oh-my-god-you-didn't-just-say-that look. "Well, everyone except Katie and Lee."

"I didn't," Alicia points out, throwing Ange's theory out the window.

"Yeah," I say smugly. "She's the smart one. How come _she_ didn't know? Huh? Huh? Huh?" Alicia gives me a weird look.

"Because," Ange says simply, "she has no clue when it comes to love."

? And Ange does? This, coming from a girl who JUST YESTERDAY was crying that one of her best friends, aka Fred Weasley, aka Angelina Johnson's soulmate, basically told her that he liked her and she was too thick to notice.

"Hello?" Alicia says. "I am _right here_, in case you haven't noticed."

Yeah, we did. We just like to ignore her. We talk twice as much and twice as loud as 'Lic, so sometimes it's hard to hear what she's saying, on account of how our eardrums are ringing because me and Ange keep having to raise our voices so we can be heard over each other's raising voices.

"Hang on!" I scream so loud that everyone in the entire Hospital Wing turns to look at me, including Cedric who's politely gone over to chat to the second years so we can have a 'private' conversation. "DID YOU JUST SAY I'M PINING FOR LEE JORDAN?"

"Yeah." Angelina says, taking my little screaming match and the fact that I'm trying to belt her over the head with a pillow in stride, "except you forgot to mention 'secretly'. Although, seeing as how everyone can tell except for Lee and Alicia-"

"I AM NOT SECRETLY PINING FOR LEE JORDAN!" I bellow. "And if you ever mention that stupid-head's name ever again, I will personally have to write a Howler from you to Snape, saying how much you love him and want to have his babies!"

"Stupid-head?" Alicia asks nobody in particular. "Harsh."

"You wouldn't!" Angelina yells back at the same time.

I giver her a Look. "Oh yes, I would!"

"No you wouldn't!"

"Will too!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Will-"

"Shut up!" Alicia shouts, pointing first at me, then Ange. It's that pointy thing again. I really need to train her out of that… maybe if I give her a couple of Schmackos…

"It's true," I mutter sullenly.

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"For god's sake, SHUT UP!" Alicia screams so loud that there is silence. Everyone in the Hospital Wing is looking at us like we're an exciting mid-day soap on TV. Even Madame Pomfry, who's looking from Angelina to me, to Alicia and then back again. And this kid who stalks Harry, I think his name is Connie Cretin, is taking photos of us. I pose for one, throwing my hands up dramatically and pointing to Angelina, mouthing, 'wanker'.

Ange sees and starts pointing to me mouthing, 'reject'. Pretty soon, we're both trying to mouth as many words as possible, while Connie Cretin just keeps taking shot after shot after shot.

"They're both losers," Alicia sighs to the camera dramatically, turning us away and forcing our arms to go around each other's neck. "Now kiss and make up."

"Okay," I say cheerfully, giving Ange a big bear hug. "Do we get an afternoon nap now?"

"What?" Alicia asks distractedly, totally missing my sarcasm.

"I... get… it…" The Connie Cretin dude is laughing hysterically, practically rolling around on the floor with tears in his eyes. Some kids should just stay home-schooled…

I roll my eyes, and Ange and Alicia nod in agreement. "You know what," I say conversationally to Ange, with everyone in the room leaning in to hear, because I've lowered my voice considerably.

"What?" Ange and Alicia ask curiously.

I ignore 'Lic. "Do you remember why I'm in here?"

"Yeah…"

"And why the second years are in here?"

"Yeah…"

"And the fact that I haven't got cured yet?"

"Yeah…. Wait! You just hugged me! And Alicia bumped our heads together!"

I smile, glad that Angelina's not as dumb as she makes out to be, especially in the areas of love and one Mr. Fred Weasley.

"But that means I'm going to get sick too!" Ange wails.

I shrug. "Yeah."

"But it's Quidditch next month!"

Seriously. That is what she said. Sometimes I cannot believe my friends are my friends. I mean, with a little more effort and planning, I could have made friends that don't have one track minds or are so oblivious to their soulmates.

"Ange," I say, "Colds don't last a month."

"Especially when you can just get a pepper-up potion," Alicia chimes in a 'duh!' sort of voice.

Ange glowers at her. "I knew that," she says, sounding irritated. Then, in one fluid movement, she jumps up and grabs Alicia in a bear hug, 'accidentally' sneezing over her shoulder. Gryffindors can be so evil sometimes.

"Angelina!" Alicia shrieks, jumping up and down amid snickers from some mean little midgets and me. "I hate you! How could you do this to me! What about exams?"

"Alicia," I say in an understanding tone, "Exams aren't until June." Ange laughs in a very mean, non-best-friend way. So do I.

"So?" she yells. "I won't be able to study!"

I realise then that I haven't actually been sneezing, wheezing or coughing during this entire little 'drama'. "Hey guys," I begin.

"I won't be able to practice Quidditch!"

"I don't want to fail my exams!"

"Guys!" I yell, putting both of fingers in my mouth intending to do an ear-splitting whistle. What comes out is more like the sound that emits from a balloon when you let all the air run out.

It works, though, because everybody stops doing what they were doing and turns and stares at me before bursting into tear-inducing laughter. Not very funny. "I don't think I'm sick!" I announce, expecting everyone to shout 'Hooray!' like they did in this movie I saw at Alicia's place one time.

Instead, everyone shuts up and Alicia and Ange look up from their hands. "What?" Ange whispers hoarsely.

"I said, I don't think I'm sick," I repeat.

"You little-" Ange jumps up and for one horrible second I think she's trying to kill me. But it's okay; she grabs me and hugs me so tight that I feel like I will explode.

"Yay!" Alicia yells in delight, and grabs me and Ange and hugs us both. We all sit back down on the bed and I ask them something that I had been wondering about the whole time.

"How did you guys know I was here?" I ask confusedly. I mean, they're great best friends but it's not like we have ESP or anything.

"We didn't," Alicia replies.

"Lee's in the Hospital Wing, too. Fred and George are with him. I think he fell out of a tree. In fact-" Ange stands up and pulls apart the curtain to reveal three figures, grinning sheepishly and then bursting into loud laughter.

Keel me. Please.

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Review! Please! 


	5. Colliding With Someone: It HURTS!

**A/N: **Hey guys! I don't really have anything interesting to say now. Well, except that even though school's started up again, I am going to make more of an effort to update this more often. Seriously. And thanks for all the reviews! I got, like, sixteen. I think. (Math never was my strong point…)

To my reviewers: thanks to **lucid-03-days** for reviewing thrice, **scared-of-open-spaces** for reviewing twice (lol! It rhymes!) and also thanks to**ally**, **shadow929**, **MotherCrumpet**, **LilJester**, **Banoffee**, **sarcastic spastic**, **Snuffles101**, **CatherineMcq**, **shayacatalystscifigirl**, **Musicgirl101**, and **fried ice cream **for reviewing. It really means a lot to me, peoples!

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**October 8th **

Ugh. I'm trying not to look, honestly, but it's kind of hard when they're sitting right across from you. In your 'field of vision'.

Alicia and George, that is. They're making out on the couch across from me, and I know they've got like, years of unrealised passion over there, but how long do they expect me to put up with that sort of behaviour? If I were a Prefect I would march right on over there and give them a ticket for 'showing public displays of affection with my best friend'. Then I could give them _both_ a ticket. Ha.

I would tell them to get a room, but I think they just might listen to me.

And it doesn't help that Lee is sitting on the same couch as me, except as far away as he can possible get without completely falling off it. I mean, it's a two-seater seat for god's sake! How far does he think he can get away from me? If he really didn't want to sit next to me, I guess he could have squeezed in next to Harry's friend, Hermione's chair. It's looking pretty good right now. Except I'd get poked with that bloody big book she's reading. I didn't even know you could buy books that big.

I start humming the tune to _Mary had a little lamb_, mostly to amuse myself but also to annoy him, too. Ever since that little Hospital Wing incident, I've made a point of avoiding him. Except today, my whole plan has come crashing down around my feet.

It was easy enough yesterday. Yesterday was a Saturday. I just ran away from him every time I saw him coming. In fact, I tried to look for the Hufflepuff common room, and ended up knocking on a painting of a fruit bowl demanding that they let me in because I had a friend in there and if they didn't, I would get Fred and George Weasley to prank them and turn the yellow on their uniforms pink. Except none of the fruit talked back, so that was a bummer.

I really do have a friend in Hufflepuff. One that's not Cedric Diggory, who I am NEVER going to talk to again, in case he tries to save me from a giant plant in Herbology or something, and ends up feeding me to it. His name is Aaron Abbot. He's my next door neighbour, and we're really only friends because I don't like his sister, so I hung out with him instead. His sister is two years younger than me and a real prissy sort of person. All she ever wanted to do was play dress-ups, while all I ever wanted to do was play Quidditch.

Anyway. Getting off track. So in the end, I only saw him once, and when I thought he was coming towards me I hid in one of those knight costumes, that Fred and George always seem to be in. Turns out they have an opening in the back of them and you can just step in. Which was weird, because every time I've asked them they replied that you had to pull it apart like a puzzle.

And it turns out that Lee hadn't even seen me, he was just going down the hallway which I had just come, where I thought the Hufflepuff common room was. And then I couldn't get out of the suit, so I had to wait for someone I knew and trusted (meaning that they would only tell a small number of people) to get me out.

So I waited. And waited. And finally none other than Cedric Diggory came along and so I had no choice but to call out to him. I still didn't say anything else to him but, "thanks."

Then I ran away.

But today has been a lot harder, seeing as how George and Alicia have been snogging each other for the last few hours (I mean, they don't even come up for air! It's incredible!) and Angelina and Fred have gone somewhere to 'sort things out'. Yeah, right. Sort things out my ar-

Hey! Lee's started tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch, in an effort to drown out my loud humming, I have to admit, though, it doesn't actually SOUND like Mary had a little lamb. More like Mary's lamb hit a truck.

Tap. Tap. Tap. It's getting annoying. I start to hum a different song. I need an annoying song. Hmm… _Baa Baa Black sheep_ is sounding good right now. And I'll even sing the words, so he knows when I mean business I mean BUSINESS. "Baa baa black sheep…. Have you any wool?" I screech, ignoring the not-so-silent snorts of laughter coming from a few of the students in the room. "Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!" I hit a high note that sends most of the room into tears of laughter. I mean, I don't think my singing is that bad.

Lee starts tapping even louder, in a desperate bid to drown out my _wonderful_ singing. "One for the master! One for the dame! One for the little duck who lives down the LANE!" I stand up on the couch, encouraged when everyone starts clapping. I'm an attention seeker, what can I say? "Another one?" I ask the little crowd (of about five people).

"No!" Alicia yells. Hmm. It appears that the oh-so-cute couple AREN'T surgically attached, like I had previously suspected. "No!" she screams again, as I take a deep breath to ask why. "Look, Katie," she says gently, looking at me all panicky, "we've heard enough of your… talents… for today. You don't want to… wear out your voice do you?"

I think about this for a moment. "No," I reply. "But when I'm a famous singer, you are ALL invited to my concerts!" I announce cheerfully.

Lee snorts, and when I turn to glare at him he just keeps on laughing. Stupid prick.

"Well…" Alicia says doubtfully, glancing at George who is doubled over with laughter himself, "we'll see about that."

"Okay," I reply, then go back to sitting on the couch as far away as possible from Lee, who is making the couch shake he's laughing so hard. "Do you MIND?" I yell at him, when I have to grab the armrest to avoid being thrown off it and onto George or Alicia's lap. I can't tell which one was originally sitting opposite me.

"No…" he says, shaking some more.

"Are you having a fit?" I ask him. Okay, I admit I might have been a TEENY bit concerned. After all, he's been one of my best friends for five years. And we only haven't been speaking for three days.

"No…" he says again.

"Ugh! You idiot!" I scream at him.

"You… were… so… funny…" he tries to say, but then collapses with laughter again.

"Shut up!" I shout again, hitting him on the head with a pillow, wishing it was Hermione's book.

"Oi! Lovebirds!" I turn around to see who's calling George and Alicia, only to find out it was _George_ who had spoken, and he was staring directly at US.

"Excuse me?" I ask, putting a hand over my heart dramatically. "You are talking to me?" I try putting on a fake French accent- it sounds more like Chinese.

"Yeah," Alicia replies, getting off the couch- it's a miracle! - and coming behind Lee and I. "You two have got to get along better. I don't know what made you start fighting," she pauses as I attempt to sputter what REALLY happened, not listen to Lee's half-truths, "but you need to kiss and make up. Starting now," she adds, punching our heads together.

The crack of skull versus skull was disgusting. Like, literally every person in the room has gone, "Ewww!" and rushed up to the bathrooms to throw up. The only good thing, I guess, was the fact that when she smashed our heads together, she forgot that Lee was sitting on the armrest and so she forced him to come most of the way across the couch, so that really before our skulls cracked, our teeth clinked together. It wasn't a kiss, really, but I think I chipped my front tooth.

"M' 'ead…" I moan pathetically, holding one hand to my mouth and the other to my head. Lee's doing exactly the same, except he fell off the couch in the process, so he's squirming on the ground.

"Alicia… what did you _do_?" I hear George breathe as he glances down on us. "That was _wicked_!"

"I killed them!" Alicia whispers back, horrified. "I killed my best friends!"

She is so morbid.

"They're not dead… at least, not yet," George adds. I squint up at him with one eye and see that he's staring at us in horrified fascination. If we can horrify a Weasley, we MUST look like we're dead.

"There's blood everywhere!" Alicia wails, grasping onto George's arm. "What do we do?"

I can feel the blood pouring out of my mouth, and I think there's some coming out of the back of my head, too. I'm not too sure about Lee, I think if I rolled over to the edge of the couch to see what he looked like then I might just fall on top of him. And THAT we do not want.

"Okay. Don't panic," I can hear George saying. I mean, we are so lucky. If this was Angelina and Fred, for instance, Fred would go around bottling our blood to put in one of his little inventions or something, or would try testing something out. And he would convince Angelina to help him, too. And then when Angelina FINALLY noticed we were like, dead, they'd take us to Madame Pomfry. Hang on- if this were Fred and Ange they wouldn't have smashed our heads together in the first place!

"We need to take them to Madame Pomfry," George says. "I think I can conjure up something resembling a stretcher…" Knowing George, it will be something pointy. Or like, a straw bed with a needle in it.

"George! A WATERBED!" Alicia shrieks so loud that I think extra blood spurts out of my head. I can hear Lee groaning too.

"Come on. All they have to do is get past this little bit of pain and then Pomfry will drug them up," he says cheerfully. "No need to worry."

Oh, I'm worrying all right. I mean, Alicia said 'waterbed'. I'm wanting 'waterbeds'.

"They won't both fit," Alicia says sceptically, surveying what I presume is the waterbed.

George shrugs. "Sure they will. Do you want them to die, or what?"

"I don't want to go to Azkaban!" Alicia sniffs. "Do you- do you think they allow you to do your O.W.L.'s in there?"

"Dunno," George dismisses, ignoring his girlfriend's antics. Well. He's not a very nice boyfriend then.

"HELLO?" I yell. "I AM IN PAIN HERE!" All the effort makes my mouth fill up with blood. It's disgusting. Oh well- better than slugs.

"Shut up," Alicia says. "Well, they're too heavy to levitate. I mean, I don't really want to try. So… I guess we'll have to drag them."

I mean, can they make up their bloody minds any faster? I'm dieing here! Jeez.

"Who first?"

"Lee, because he's closer." I hear them dragging Lee across the floor and resist the impulse to laugh because a) I think I would cry, b) Lee would probably push me off the waterbed and c) Alicia would think that I got brain damage and then I would have to be in the company of Madame Pomfry longer than I can stomach.

"Now Katie."

"Jeez, Katie, you're heavy," George says as they drag me to off the couch with a thud (and fuck, it hurts) and across to the waterbed.

"Well you're just a bimbo-chasing man-whore…" I murmur sleepily. I think the whole pain thing has gone to my head. Either that or I have lost so much blood, I'm… losing more blood.

"Did she just say what I think she said?" George asks Alicia.

"Just ignore her. Probably one of her little rants against someone," Alicia says comfortingly. I don't think she realises that SHE is the bimbo mentioned. Not that I would ever call her a bimbo. I mean, she's not. Yeah… I don't think I should say anything to either of them for the remainder of this little episode.

So I am put onto the waterbed RIGHT NEXT to Lee, so that I can practically smell his breath. It's not all that great.

"Lee?"

"Yeah?" he mumbles, sounding just as out of it as I am.

"Your breath stinks."

"Thank you Katie," he says. And then he puts an arm around me in a sort of cuddly thing. It feels nice.

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A/N: I hope I didn't make it too, you know, gruesome or anything. If I did, I didn't mean to. But yeah, this definitely isn't one of my fav chapters or anything. But what can I say? I had writer's block! Please review!


	6. Why Do I Have A CANYON In My Mouth?

**A/N: **Woo hoo! I've reached the milestone of 50 reviews! I would just like to take a moment to bask in my moment of glory.

Okay. Basking done. But seriously guys, although I absolutely LOVE the fact that I've gotten so many reviews, I only receivedten reviews last chappie. I mean, do you WANT me to post people's names that aren't reviewing?

I think not. Lol. Joke.Call me a review whore, (I am, after all) I don't mind. Anyway, I'm sure you're all gonna love this chappie! Hehe! (And I hope you've all noticed how quickly I've updated. I'm so proud of myself!)

Thanks to:** shadow929**, **elflover**, **CatherineMcq**, **Banoffee**, **MotherCrumpet**, **lucid-03-days**, **shayacatalystscifigirl**, **sarcastic spastic**, **scared-of-open-spaces** and **Suffles101 **for reviewing! Feel free to review more!

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**October 10th**

I hate the Hospital Wing. I mean, I've been in it so many times it's not funny. Madame Pomfry even _knows my name_. How scary is that? Like, the only other person's name she knows is probably Harry's because he keeps almost dieing and stuff.

Just this morning she was all, "Hello, Miss Bell. About time you've woken up." And when I asked her how long I'd been out for, she was like, "oh, just two days."

TWO DAYS! That's like, two days gone! Bam, two days that I will never, ever get back. Two days that I will regret for the rest of my life, and when I'm dieing I'll be like, "I could have been dieing two days later. Damn you, Alicia!"

So Alicia Marie Spinnet has taken two days off my life. When I get my hands on her… No, just kidding. I mean, who would try and murder their best friend? (Aside from a certain someone named ALICIA?)

And what's even scarier is the fact that I was here just four days ago. I think I've broken a new record. Voldemort will have to try and kill Harry twice in a week before someone will be able to break it!

And do you want to know what's even sadder than the fact that I've broken a record for Person to Most Frequently Visit the Hospital Wing?

Yeah, the fact that there weren't even enough little roomy things for me and Lee to be placed in a separate one. Seriously! All the little midget second years tried to like, play with the Giant Squid or something, as so they all have their own little room with the curtains drawn.

What do I get? HALF a room, and I have to share it with LEE JORDAN of all people. I mean, come on woman! That should be against the school's policy. A girl and a guy being placed in the same freaking-tiny-midget room. Do you KNOW how small these things are? Like, my whole family could probably only just fit in one- if we were all standing up.

Besides, who knows what we could get up to in the dark. Not that I would do anything with Lee, seeing as how I'm still pissed off at him and everything, but still. Madame Pomfry doesn't know that.

AND there's not enough room for two beds to be placed in it, so someone has pushed them right up next to each other. I suspect that was Fred or George, because no matter how crazy Madame Pomfry is, she wouldn't put another patient next to another one in case I contacted cooties or something from him. Not that I still believe boys can give me cooties. But still. It's Lee. One never knows what germs he is carrying.

But for Fred and George to have moved our beds together, that must mean that they have visited us in hospital. I hope George feels guilty, just sitting back and letting Alicia try to kill us. At least if he had helped we probably would have been knocked out. On second thoughts, though, seeing as how George is a Beater and is used to smashing hard balls with a wicked hard bat, it's probably a good thing he didn't help.

And if Fred and George visited, that must mean Angelina and Alicia have visited, too. Merlin, I hope Alicia feels guilty, just trying to get us to 'kiss and make up'. Yeah, 'Lic, we kissed all right- and had several bones broken as a result!

I feel my tooth with my tongue to see if I have a chip and scream suddenly. Because I HAVE NO TOOTH! Where I should have a tooth- even if it's chipped- there is a HOLE!

"Bell! What's wrong?" Lee shouts, sitting up straight in bed like those people you see in mattress ads where they can't sleep and then a voice tells them they should have a posture-medic bed and they'll be able to sleep knowing they have money well spent.

"I DON'T HAVE A TOOTH!" I scream at the ceiling, as loudly as I can. I mean, I am not a vain person by nature. But knowing I have a great gapping hole in my mouth isn't doing wonders for my self-esteem right now. I'll look like the five-year-old kid who just ate the last cookie!

For his part, Lee DOES look a little concerned. "I know," he says. "You kept turning over to my side and breathing in my face, and because your mouth was open I could see the freaking huge gap."

Well. At least he isn't lying and telling me it's only a little space. "WHY DO I HAVE A CANYON IN MY MOUTH?" I yell again. It's making my voice go all wheezy.

Madame Pomfry appears and glares at me. "You're waking all the little ones," she tells me crossly.

Hello? The little brats are only three years younger than me! I'm sure they don't mind losing a little sleep! "Why don't I have a tooth?" I ask in what I consider to be a much calmer tone.

Madame Pomfry flinches. Evidently I wasn't that much quieter. "Well," she begins, not all that sympathetically, "your friend said you fell down some stairs when you were sliding on the banisters. I hope you know that it wasn't a very smart thing to do-"

"WHAT?" I shout, flailing my arms in the air. "I did NOT slide down the banisters! Do I look that stupid to you?" I ask Lee, seeing as how he is watching this all very interestedly.

"Well," he drawls.

"Don't answer that!" I snap at him, then turn back to Madame Pomfry and draw a deep breath. "Look, Madame Pomfry," I say in what is a sweet tone for me. "What _really_ happened was that my bitch-of-a-friend, and her bitch-of-a-boyfriend smashed our heads together then took their time examining us and finally transported us here on a waterbed."

Madame Pomfry blinks, then begins to look angry. "Do you actually expect me to _believe_ that load of nonsense?" she demands.

"Er… yes?" I say meekly, shifting a bit towards Lee. I'm not a wuss. Madame Pomfry can just get very scary when she's mad, and besides, I had run out of steam. Normally when that happens, I just run away as fast as possible from the person I was screaming at. But seeing as how I was currently incapacitated, I was going to let Lee handle this.

Which makes me wonder: if Madame Pomfry didn't see a waterbed, exactly how DID those two get us here? Then again, I'm not sure I want to know.

"Your tooth wasn't there when that nice boy and his friend brought you in!" she says.

Oh, he didn't. Yes, I think he did. George Weasley… I think he… I think he pulled out my TOOTH! I can't believe this. I KNOW I had my tooth before we were dropped onto the waterbed. I remember, because it kept going all wonky and it was really annoying me. If I ever get out of this fricking place I am going to KILL him! "I am going to _murder_ him!" I mutter under my breath with vengeance. This will be the LAST time George Weasley ever takes anything of mine again!

"What?" Lee whispers, confused.

I ignore him. "Hello? That _nice boy_ pulled out my bloody tooth!"

"Out!" Madame Pomfry screeches. "I will not have you talk to me like that! Out with the both of you! I will report this to your head of house! Get out!"

I roll my eyes and get out of bed, pulling at Lee's sleeve. "Come on, Lee, I know when we're _not wanted_," I say with emphasis, sending a dirty look at Madame Pomfry's back.

"Um, Bell?" Lee asks hesitantly.

"Yeah?" I ask, dragging him towards the door, past all the little midget second years.

"You might want to put on some clothes first," he says, snickering.

Oh my god. I don't want to look down, in case I look, and I'm not wearing anything! I check, and to my absolute HORROR I am wearing something. That something is a frilly pink nightie, with little hearts all over and, to top it off, it has little white, lacy bows surrounding the hem and necklines.

It's worse than the being-naked-in-public-dream. Way worse. I feel physically sick, like I'm about to spew. I mean, who actually owns something like that? Apart from… Alicia. Oh. My. God. She didn't. Yes, I think she did. Alicia Spinnet… has given me… one of her granny nighties… in an apparent effort to be nice.

How could she do this to me? How? I mean, we've been best friends for YEARS. Does that not mean anything to her? For years I've ridiculed her hideous choice of bed-wear, and now she has finally had the opportunity to force it upon me. I mean, I knew she hated the whole 'wearing trackies and a tee to bed' but did she have to go this far? To actually swap my trackies for a NIGHTIE?

Lee looks sympathetic. See, Alicia? Even LEE JORDAN knows how much I absolutely DETEST frilly things. Even more than I detest carrots. Or spiders.

And that's when I let out a blood-curdling shriek, making everyone in the entire Hospital Wing rush out and stare at me. "How could she do this to me?" I wail. I am an absolute mess. It's horrifying. Now everyone will know my weakness- frilly pink nighties. My mum has told me many times that it's sad when the sight of a pink nightie can send a girl into tears.

Lee takes control of the situation. "Do you want one of these?" he threatens the kiddies, gesturing at my nightie. Everyone looks slightly scared, and rushes back into their little curtained box. "Come on, Katie," he coaxes, gently leading me towards the door by placing a hand on my back. "Just a little further."

We get to Madame Pomfry's office and Lee knocks. "Madame Pomfry," he says conversationally, "I was just wondering if Katie could have her things back?"

Madame Pomfry glares at him and sighs heavily. "I suppose," she grumbles, going over to an old chest and waving her wand at it, causing the clothes to fly out and hit me in the face. I don't even make a motion to catch them. Lee does, and doesn't even blush when my bra accidentally falls off the pile. He is one in-control guy.

"What's wrong with her?" Madame Pomfry demands, taking action.

"Oh," Lee says slowly. "She's just, uh, had a shock." Understatement of the year. THAT'S all he can come up with? Jeez. Even I could have come up with a better excuse than that.

Madame Pomfry takes my temperature and pronounces me "Fine," and then Lee drags me back down to our cubicle.

"Put these on," he demands, shoving my clothes in my face and shutting the curtain door.

I slowly put on my navy tracksuit pants, and then my bra. Just as I try and put on my white and blue tee shirt, I get stuck in it and fall back through the curtains.

"Help," I mumble through the material. I'm sort of embarrassed that Lee's seeing me half-undressed, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before. In first year, he accidentally walked in on me getting changed. (Don't ask me how). But because he was like, eleven, he was all, "Ew! Yuck!" and ran out of the room.

"God, Bell," he mutters, hauling at the hem of my top. "Do I have to dress you, too?"

"Um, yeah," I reply, grabbing my jacket and shrugging it on. "Let's go!" I pull on his hand, and we quickly leave before Madame Pomfry chases after us.

"Hang on!" I say, stopping just outside the door. "How come you didn't have a frilly nightie?" I just figured if Alicia felt guilty enough to give me one of her precious nighties, she must have given Lee one too. Then again, Alicia probably went out and found some frilly pyjamas.

Lee takes it all in stride. "I got frilly pyjamas," he says, "but I knew you'd get scared if you woke up and saw them so I got changed into my clothes just before you woke up."

That is so sweet. He thought his pyjamas'd scare me so he changed! "Oh," I say, "Thanks."

"No problem," Lee says.

We walk in silence for a while before I think of something. "We're missing Hogsmeade!" I exclaim.

"Nah," Lee dismisses. "We're missing Muggle Studies. Hogsmeade was yesterday."

"Right," I reply. "Well, I'd rather be running away from Pomfry with you than being in Muggle Studies glaring at you," I say, in what I consider to be an offering of peace.

Lee smiles at me. "Thanks, I think," he says, raising his eyebrows. "Me too."

We've almost reached the common room portrait when I say, "Sorry I didn't get to go to Hogsmeade with you."

"What?" Lee stops.

"You know," I shrug. "I was going to say yes, but then you _ran away_." I elbowed him in the stomach. I would have elbowed him in the upper arm, so as not to be too cruel, but I was too short.

"You were going to say yes?" Lee asks, amazed.

I roll my eyes. "Duh," I say sarcastically. "Of course. But then you ran away."

"Sorry," Lee offers. "So do you want to sneak off to Hogsmeade next Saturday?"

I smile and pretend to think about it. "Okay," I say, "But as long as we don't go to Madame Puddifoot's."

"Deal," Lee says, grinning and going through the portrait.

It's only then I realise the whole time we were walking we were holding hands, too.

* * *

Hehe. So Katie agreed... I mean, was there ever any doubt? 


	7. Not At ALL Amused

**A/N:** Hey! So... uh... I don't have anything interesting to say again. Oh well. Thanks to be reviewers- **Banoffee**, **Black Flaming Heart**, **Annimouse**, **shadow929**, **MotherCrumpet**, **CatherineMcq**, **LilJester**, **sarcastic spastic**, **shayacatalystscifigirl**, **lucid-03-days**, **PrincessPotter16** and **suffles101**. This is an extra long chap, so I hope you like!

Oh, and some people have been asking me if I could send them an email to let them know when I've updated, if they don't have an account. Can I just say that I don't really believe that any of you are stalkers, etc, but I just feel really uncomfortable giving out my email. If you really want me to, I will, I just thought I'd make myself clear. So if you still want to get messaged about this story (if you don't have a registered account) you can tell me in the review. Thanks!

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* * *

October 15th**

I awake to someone shaking me furiously. I try to shut it out, but it gets even more insistent. "What…" I mumble sleepily.

"Katie! Get up!" An all-too-familiar voice chirps.

It's too early for happy people. God, I _hate_ happy people. They make me even grumpier than I naturally am. "Piss off…" I mumble, snuggling further into my bed. It's warm and comfortable.

"Oi! Bell! Wake up!" A harsher voice yells from further away.

Wait a minute. I know that voice, too. I open one eye, to see Alicia standing next to me, grinning maniacally.

I sit bolt upright, banging my head on the bed-head in the process. "What?" I ask suspiciously. When Alicia loses her normally smart and demure demeanor, you know something's up. Because she only ever does that about three things in the whole entire world: George Weasley, the O.W.L.'s or what she classifies as 'romance'.

In this instance, I'm guessing it's the latter.

"It's _Saturday_," Alicia emphasises.

"So?" I say, flopping back on the pillow.

"Don't you have someone to _be_?" she asks slyly.

"Er… no?" I ask, confused.

Angelina throws a pillow at me from the other side of the room, where she is braiding her hair in front of the mirror. "Duh, you reject," she says, rolling her eyes, "what she means is, you have a Hogsmeade appointment today."

I gaze blankly at her. "Oh my god!" I exclaim, panicking. "I didn't agree to go with Cedric, did I?"

Alicia gives a little scream of frustration and jabs her finger at me. "No, you idiot!" she yells, while I laugh at her expense. "Lee asked you out, remember?"

"Oh yeah," I say, recalling the conversation we had on Monday. In the five days since he asked me out, we've just gone about our normal lives. Like, we still sit next to each other in Muggle Studies (and apart from the occasional flirting, which isn't that unusual since we used to do that anyway) it's normal. Like, we still joke around and make fun of people, and it's cool seeing Stormie McNamara glare at me every time I turn around. The good thing, though, is that she's sitting next to Cedric now, and latching onto him like a leech. It's quite amusing, really.

And I don't even know how Ange and Alicia found out about our 'date'. I mean, it's not like we've acted any different, and I haven't mentioned it to them. I know, I know. I'm a bad best friend, but seriously. I mean, they COULD get their own lives, rather than sit back and laugh at mine.

"How did you even know?" I ask, closing my eyes. The world is just _too_ bright at this time of the morning.

In case you haven't noticed yet, I am NOT a morning person. And that just makes Lee all the more annoying, because when I come down to breakfast last and tired, he's sitting down in the Great Hall with a cup of coffee going, "and GOOD MORNING, to you too!" all happily, like he doesn't know I _hate_ mornings. Prick.

"Bell, we're your best friends," Angelina calls from where she is sitting, on her bed. "We know _everything_."

God, THAT sounded just a tad creepy.

"So you're stalking me too?" I mumble into my pillow. Ah, so soft; so _cosy_.

"Hmm." Ange pretends to think about it for a moment. "Yeah. When I'm not with Fred snog-"

"Okay!" I yell, putting a hand up in the air. "I do NOT want to know about your escapades with Frederick!"

"Wow, Katie," Alicia remarks, "you actually sound like an intellectual."

Huh. Who even SAYS that in this day and age? And just because I walk into doors, fall down stairs, fail assignments etc, does NOT mean I am an idiot. In fact, I bet I could read before Alicia.

"Hey 'Lic," I say conversationally, trying to adopt the 'casually interested' tone that Fred and George take up when they want to weasel information out of someone.

"Yeah?" she asks suspiciously.

So I'm not the greatest actor in the world. At least I can sing.

"When did you learn to read?"

"What?"

"Katie! Get _dressed_!" Angelina shouts. "I need some coffee!"

I roll my eyes at her dramatics. I mean, who even LIKES coffee? Well, you know, apart from Lee, and Angelina, and my mum, and my dad, and my brother Michael, and my brother… Anyway.

"Come on," Ange says, hauling at Alicia's sleeve and practically pulling her out the door. "We're going to get breakfast. Come and join us when you're ready, Bell."

Five minutes passes, and I guess I had better get up. I mean, I wouldn't want to keep Lee waiting, would I?

Of course not.

I get up and shuffle towards the showers. At least I won't smell. Lee should be impressed... Just kidding. I have a shower everyday. I don't smell. Well, not as much as Lachlan Turris, anyway.

When I get out of the shower, I rummage around in my trunk for something to wear and pull out the first clean clothes I find. It's a pair of navy trackies and a white and green hoodie. Hey, I like to be comfy. I pull on my black volleys and run a brush through my hair.

It's eerily quiet when I get downstairs. I mean, wherever I go there's always _noise_. I guess because of the fact that I create it, or something.

I take so long getting down to the ground floor that breakfast has finished and students are everywhere; walking back to their common rooms, going outside or whatever.

I'm so busy looking for my friends that I jump when a voice beside me says, "nice to see you've dressed up for me, Bell."

It's Lee, and he's busy smirking at me. I whack him in the arm crossly. "I like to be comfortable," I tell him, raising my eyebrows.

"I can see that," Lee replies. Then he extends his arm out towards me. "If you might be so kind," he says in a mock-polite voice.

I stare up at him, looking sceptical. What annoys me most about my friends is how they're all so TALL. I mean, I am 5"2. In my opinion, that is not short. But when I'm staring up at Lee, who is about 5"11, I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it is. I can't even look mad, because everyone coos, "aw, isn't that _sweet_? She's so small!" And pats me on the head. "Alright," I say, shrugging.

He grins and pats me on the head. "Good girl," he says, in a tone that you say to a dog when it rolls over.

"Watch it, buddy," I say, poking him. "Just because I'm short doesn't mean that I can't hit you in the head."

Lee puts his hands up as if to say, 'I surrender'. "I'd like to see you try," he adds.

All I can do is pull on the tip of a dreadlock. "Fine," I say huffily, turning away. Some kids are staring at us creepily. You know, like maybe they want to stalk me. I really have _got_ to get over the whole 'paranoia' thing. It's kind of getting old.

"Aw, come on, Bell," Lee whines. He steps around in front of me.

Does he ALWAYS have to be so in-your-face?

"You know you love me," he wheedles.

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter, but I'm grinning. I love being mean to Lee, it's just so _satisfying_.

"Ha, I knew you were joking," Lee declares as we try to walk down the hallway inconspicuously. Unfortunately, because we both have such loud voices, heads keep turning our way. And then Connie Cretin took a photo of us, even though we weren't doing anything other than walking. He is SUCH a weird kid. I mean, no wonder Harry has nightmares about him.

We reach the one-eyed-witch portrait, but there's too many people around to use it. Okay, so like three. But that is three too many. Not for the first time, I am glad that Fred and George found that stupid smelly map. I mean, even though they were like, OBSESSED with it. But it was okay after the first year, because they were like so obsessed with it that they memorised it, so we didn't need it any more.

We get through and then we're in the dark, damp corridor. And you know the absolute BEST part? I can feel Lee moving in closer to me, because he's afraid of the dark. Oh, this is the BEST bit of blackmail I've ever had!

"Are you afraid of the dark?" I whisper in between my bouts if laughter. I mean, come on. If you just found out that your best friend (and soon-to-be boyfriend) is AFRAID OF THE DARK, you'd be chuckling a little, too. I mean, that is just not NORMAL.

Lee nudges me so hard he almost sends me sprawling. "Shut up," he snaps. "I just had a bad experience with a boggart when I was five," he adds sheepishly.

I keep laughing. "Dude, it's ten years later," I tell him.

Lee shrugs. "And you are still afraid of frilly pink nightgowns," he counters with an evil grin.

Point taken.

"Okay. How about, I won't tell anyone you're afraid of the dark, if you don't tell anyone I cry if I'm forced to wear a frilly pink nightie." I mean, Alicia and everyone knows my weakness. They just don't know how _bad_ my reaction is. Miraculously, the little midget second years didn't actually see me go hysterical. I mean, at least since they were scared of me (and probably Lee, since he's pretty scary, as well) they didn't dare to laugh at me.

Lee stops and shakes my hand seriously. "Then we have an accord," he says solemnly.

I laugh and hit him again. I am such a violent little child. "You idiot," I say.

Luckily I don't have to yell at him any more, seeing as how we're at the entrance to Honeyduke's cellar. Lee lifts up the hatch and goes through, and I follow.

I've been in here tons of times before, but every time I see it, it amazes me because it's all so COLOURFUL. I love bright things. There's tons of rainbow jars and they're all so hippie-ish. I like hippies. Maybe when I grow up, I'll move to the woods and run around barefoot and become a hippie, and then when the giants come around and try to rip out all the trees I'll chain myself to them.

Even though it's not a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts students, it's still really busy, and it's a good thing we're not wearing our uniforms. Then again, I'm mistaken often enough for a small child, why would now be any different?

"Where would you like to go first, Bell?" Lee asks with an impish grin.

"Hmm," I say, thinking about it. "Dunno." I'm still too tired to be up at this time. I mean, I am a night-dweller. So if you think about it, I am sort of like an owl. Well, apart from the whole turning-their-heads-around-in-a-full-circle thing. You'd think they get a sore neck… do owls even _have_ necks?

"Bell?" Lee says, waving a hand in front of my face. "How 'bout the Shrieking Shack?" he suggests, wriggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

I give him a shove. "You are _such_ a freak," I laugh.

We end up going to Zonko's first, and I am surprised by how many adults shop there. I mean that, or they're paedophiles, just waiting for innocent, unsuspecting children to come wondering into the shop. I buy a quaffle that magically avoids the keeper, just so that at our next practice, I can throw it at Oliver and see his face when he tries to catch it. The look will be priceless. He'll fall to pieces… that guy must have the biggest ego in the world.

Then we go to the Shrieking Shack. It's pretty cool, even though you can't really see it, and I've been to it a hundred times. One time last year, the six of us were just about to go in except Cho Chang caught us, and so we had to pretend that George had lost his toilet seat. (Why Fred said that, I will never know. I mean, those Weasleys have a strange fixation on toilet seats… when they first came to my house, they stayed in the toilet for like half an hour, simply because it's one of those decorative ones, with shells and stuff under the clear plastic.)

Splat! Lee hits me right on the nose with a mudball. (Even though it's not quite snowing yet, we've been having a lot of rain. I heard McGonagall say that it was the coldest weather we've had in autumn for a hundred years, because of the dementors. Anyway, we call bits of mud and slush mudballs, 'cos, well, they are.) And it's COLD! I shriek and run away. (Huh, I'm shrieking outside the Shrieking Shack…)

"Suck!" I yell when I get him in the head.

I turn around to pick up some more mud and Lee sneaks up on me, pushing me in the biggest puddle. "Whoops," he murmurs insincerely, grinning down at me. He sticks out a hand to help me up, but I pull him down with me, so we're both laying on our backs in the middle of a mud puddle. Cool.

"This is fun," I say cheerfully, turning to look at him.

"Yeah," Lee agrees, grinning again and then leaning forward to kiss me.

We were just in the middle of a very nice snogging session when I hear a voice above us. I pull away and look up slowly. And then I blanche.

Because standing tall above us, looking most disgusted and not at ALL amused, is one Severus Snape. The grease is practically dripping off his hair today, and it's making little steaming piles in the slush.

Next to me, Lee gulps softly. "Uh oh," he mutters.

Snape blinks, as if deciding what to do. He looks so mad, there's almost STEAM coming out of his ears, and his usually pale face is an interesting pinky colour.

I can't resist the urge to snicker, and immediately Snape turns on me. "And _what_ are you two doing here?" he bellows. "Not only are you _breaking school rules_, have you failed to notice that there is an _escaped murderer on the loose_?"

"What's his name again?" I ask, ignoring Lee's groan as he elbowed me in the ribs.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You know very well what his name is!" he barked. "I _cannot_ believe that not only you have risked the safety of your _lives_, but also those of the students at Hogwarts!"

Whoa. He REALLY has some issues. I mean, he is _way_ emotionally unstable.

"Dumbledore will hear about this!" He hisses. I mean, now that his voice is doing that snakey thing, it's not such a joke any more. Believe it or not, he can be SCARY when he's like that. But then I think about what Harry said, how Neville's boggart turned into him and then he was wearing Neville's grandmother's clothes, and I start laughing all over again. I mean, I can so totally see Snape as a cross-dresser. Make up to smooth his complexion, a little fragrance to make him smell nice, a pretty dress for circulation down there…

Lee is making shut up motions as Snape rants some more. I've sort of learned to tune him out, I mean, who REALLY wants to learn about important potions skills that will 'stay with you for life'? Not me.

Just as he looks like he's winding down, he suddenly looks over our shoulders and whips out his wand.

Lee and I turn our heads so fast that I think his dreadlocks will permanently scar me, and freeze.

Because floating about a hundred meters away is a horrible black dementor. And dude, he STINKS!


	8. I Need My Eyes To SEE

**A/N: **Hey again, guys. I'm so ashamed of myself- I only finished this chapter last night. I know, I know, talk about leaving it to the last minute. But, to make up for it, this is the longest chapter in the ENTIRE story. At 3000 words, (well, okay, it's exactly 17 words short of it) not including the author's note, it is FREAKING LONG. But yeah… what can I say? I just couldn't stop. Oh, and by the way, in the last part of this chapter there's kind of a bit of parody, so you've been warned. But don't worry, it's not too much. See if you can spot it… :D

So yeah. And guys, where have all my reviewers gone? I mean, I only had NINE reviews last chapter. Once upon a time, I had sixteen reviews in one chapter…

But don't get me wrong. I love all my reviewers! You guys rock! And I was pretty surprised at some of last chapter's reviews. Because, in my (humble) opinion, it wasn't all that great. I certainly didn't think it was all that funny… but you guys are so cool, you decided to humour me! (Or you really DID think it was funny… which, you know, wouldn't be all bad either :P )

Thanks to **Banoffee, shadow929, LilJester, sarcastic spastic, lucid-03-days, shayacatalystscifigirl**, **CatherineMcq, MotherCrumpet, snuffles101!**

Okay. So next chapter will complete the month of October, and we will be going into November… finally! Lol. Nine chapters for one month… Katie sure does have a lot going on in her life:D

And wow, this is a really long author note… hmm… so is the story! Wow. I wonder if I have short author notes in the short chapters… Anyway, I'll let you peoples get on with it. Read and review, please!

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**October 26th**

We got a month of detention and an 'official warning' which can't have been THAT official because it wasn't even written down.

And sure, McGonagall nearly blew a casket when she found out what we'd done. I think she ranted more than Snape. Then she was all, "Dumbledore will hear about this!" too, just like Snape was. I mean, do they get scripts they have to rehearse just in case some retarded teenagers take it into their heads to sneak out of the castle and play with dementors, or something?

Oh yeah. The dementor. It was okay, 'cos unfortunately it didn't eat Snape. In fact, it wasn't even a dementor. It turned out to be a smelly old black sheet that a drunken villager had decided to wave around and see who got scared. I mean, I can sort of understand why he was drunk, because I heard Snape say his name was something like 'Munfungus Fetcher' or something. I'd be getting pissed too, if that were my name.

Anyway, Dumbledore never ended up talking to us, because he had to go and sort out the Munfungus dude. Instead he left it up to good old Minerva to think up an interesting punishment. And yeah, she wasn't even creative. Like a month's detention is something new. Not.

Fred and George had detention too, for setting the potions room on fire. Except they wouldn't put us all in the same room, like to scrub all the ashes or whatever. I get the feeling that they don't trust us.

Angelina and Alicia didn't have detention. Well, Alicia got one for harassing Snape about the O.W.L.'s, but then he never bothered to assign her something to do so she just went back to the common room.

I guess it hasn't been TOO bad, except for the fact that we start at five and go till twelve. I mean, when do they expect me to do their stupid homework? History of Magic, I suppose.

And the fact they won't let me and Lee do the same thing. Like, Lee gets to polish all the trophies, whilst I have to clean up all the puke, rubbish, etc that kids have dropped in the hallways. The only good thing about that was one time I had to mop a corridor outside Ravenclaw, and I 'accidentally' forgot to put a '_Wet floor' _sign up. Then Stormie McNamara came along, and wham! Slipped over and practically broke her bum. I mean, I wouldn't have done it if I thought she would be SERIOUSLY hurt, and she didn't even have to go to the Hospital Wing. I was all, "Oh my god! I am _so_ sorry, Stormie!" and she just glared at me and tried to walk off. Except for the minor fact she couldn't walk properly, so she looked like she was constipated. Walked like it, too.

That was pretty funny. And then Connie Cretin snapped a photo, and that was even funnier.

So Lee and me have been doing detention for like, a week and half now. And we've practically cleaned the whole school! Seriously. There's like nothing left to clean. Apart from Snape's hair, but I'm glad they're not going to make us clean that.

I wonder what they'll dream up tonight.

I go downstairs to find Lee, so we can walk to Snape's office together. Safety in numbers, you know- otherwise the Slytherins might try and decapitate us, or something. Fred and George finished their detentions last Saturday.

"Ready to go?" I ask gloomily as soon as I sneak up behind Lee.

He whirls around, then smiles and gives me a kiss. "Ready when you are," he says cheerfully. Uh, Lee? We're _going to detention with Snape_. Nothing to be cheerful about.

"Come on," I say, tugging at his sleeve. "Otherwise the Slytherins might try and decapitate us."

"Right…" Lee says, rolling his eyes. "We don't want to keep them waiting, then do we?"

I wave goodbye to Angelina and Alicia and Fred and George ("Oh, when are thy going to see thou again?") and leave.

We walk down to Snape's office, but when I knock, nobody answers. So me and Lee decide to do something to pass the time.

"I spy with my little eye," I begin, "something beginning with 'D'."

"Door?" Lee guesses, smiling maniacally at me.

"Oh my god! However did you get that?" I ask dramatically, like it was hard. I happen to be standing right across from it.

Lee shrugs modestly. "Guess I just have a high IQ," he answers.

"At least your high one can make up for my lack of one," I say brightly.

"Come on, Katie," Lee says encouragingly. "You're not dumb-"

Aw. Isn't that SWEET?

"-Well, not much, anyway." He finishes.

Oh yeah. Thanks Lee. Thanks a lot.

"I have a better idea, instead of playing 'I Spy'," Lee says conversationally, turning to face me.

I raise an eyebrow. (And yes, I have perfected that. It took me four years in History of Magic, but I finally achieved it!) "And what is that?" I ask curiously.

"This," Lee says.

We were just in the middle of (yet another) very nice snog when I hear a person clear their throat. I look up and start gasping for air; I'm laughing so much. I mean, it's so IRONIC it's laughable. Beside me, Lee starts shaking too.

Snape glares menacingly at us. "If you don't mind, please refrain from such blatant displays of public affection in the future." It looks like it's killing him to say it.

Oh, this is TOO good. I only wish Connie Cretin were here right now to get a shot of Snape's face.

And yes, we do mind. "Sorry, Sir," I say instead. "It won't happen in the dungeons again."

"I would prefer it to not happen _anywhere_," Snape says, emphasising the word coldly.

I wonder if he had a secret lover when he was at Hogwarts, only a teacher yelled at him not to make out with her any more, and then the girl dumped him because she wasn't getting any action? Or maybe she dumped him because the grease was dripping off his hair onto her clothes, and she couldn't wash it out.

"Yes, Professor," Lee says solemnly, struggling not to grin.

"Good. Now today you will have a different task," Snape says, his colour slowly going back to his normal 'I've-been-dead-for-a-day' tone. "You will be going into the Forbidden Forest."

No. Way. He can't DO this to us! I'm too young to die! I mean, is he even ALLOWED to do that? I'm sure it's illegal. I ALWAYS knew he was a Death Eater- maybe he wants to feed us to the dementors! (And the real ones, not black sheets that crazy drunk people with wanky names shake about)

Lee's eyes just about bulge out of his head. "Pardon?" he asks incredulously.

"You will be going into the Forbidden Forest to look for Wolfsbane," Snape snapped, "and that is the end of it."

Hang on a minute. Why Wolfsbane? Why not, like, Cornish pixies or whatever? I mean, it's not as if we have a werewolf running around the school or anything.

"Why Wolfsbane?" Lee blurts out. Freaky- we're even starting to THINK the same things. When Snape glares at him, Lee ads meekly, "sir."

Snape looks impatient. "Never mind. Wait here." Then he turns around abruptly, heading back up the hallway.

"This is illegal, isn't it?" I say loudly to Lee. "He can't actually _make_ us go out there, right?"

"With all the dementors and escaped prisoners?" Lee finishes my thought. "I hope not."

I shrug. "Oh well. At least I have you to protect me, right?" I say teasingly.

Lee shudders. "I'll be hiding behind you," he says cheerfully, punching me in the arm. "So put on your best scary face."

"Like this?" I ask, twisting my face up. I mean, it's probably not complimentary, but hey. At least I don't go around crying that a hair fell out of place.

"Nah," Lee says slowly. "More like- your normal face," he finishes, grinning at me.

"I hate you!" I howl. "Are you saying I'm ugly?"

"Never," Lee assures me, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Just-" he leans forward to whisper in my ear conspiringly- "scary."

"Hm." I answer distractedly. I've learned to block Lee out. Well, mostly.

Then Snape comes back and starts glaring at us.

"Sir?" I say timidly, putting up a hand like I'm in class or something. Oh, wait. I don't put up my hand anyway… silly me.

"Miss Bell?" he points at me. Wicked. We're doing the whole 'we-can't-talk-normally-unless-it's-in-a-classroom-thing'.

"Well sir," I say, putting my arm down slowly, "are there _werewolves_ in the forest?"

Snape stares at me loathingly. "No," he snaps. "Because in case you haven't noticed, it is _not_ the full moon, Bell."

Oh. Right. But still… they could be waiting to attack us, with the minor fact that they're not actually _transformed_. I mean, I reckon they could still poke my eyes out. And, you know, I need my eyes to SEE.

Lee sighs loudly. "You're not serious about this, professor," he says, raising an eyebrow. (Yeah, Lee can do it too! I practiced on him, seeing as how I can't actually tell if one eyebrow or two were going up, or if I was doing the whole 'squinty-eye-thing'. You know, where no one knows if you're attempting to wink or if you're just constipated.)

I sort of feel sorry for Snape. A tiny bit. Maybe not even that. But still, I mean he has to keep explaining to a couple of thick teenagers that they're going out into a DARK, SCARY FOREST, and will then have to FIND SOME WOLFBANE, whilst trying to AVOID the DEADLY DEMENTORS, ESCAPED LOONYS and RABID WOLVES.

Yeah. I sort of feel sorry for him.

So he takes us outside, and knocks on Hagrid's hut before leaving to 'attend to unfinished business.' Yeah, right. I mean, in movies and books and stuff, the evil villains ALWAYS say that, and then they like, go to a room so they can watch their victims go through a meat-processor or whatever. And then they tap their fingers and laugh maniacally, much in the way Lee does when Professor Flitwick falls off his pile of books in charms and then tries to climb back up.

"Hey, Hagrid!" I say, all enthusiastically like we're just here for some rock cakes and not to play with dangerous creatures.

"Well, 'ello there… uh…" Oh, shit. He doesn't even know my NAME. What am I, like an unknown FREAK, or something?

"Katie!" he exclaims, upon finally remembering it. "And Lee. What did yeh two do now?' he says reprovingly, looking down at us.

Even though Hagrid is like, the nicest half-giant in the world, he's still really scary. I mean, think about it. If you had someone who was over three feet taller, bearing down on you, it would not be that much fun.

"Oh, you know," I say vaguely, "this and that. Not much."

At the same time, Lee says, "we snuck out of Hogwarts."

"Oh, that's nice… Yeh did WHAT?" Hagrid bellows.

"Uh, yeah…" I say, stepping up. "Listen Hagrid, we need to borrow a lantern, please," I say nicely.

"Sure," Hagrid says brightly, rummaging around in one of his trunks. "Here yeh go…" he says, tossing it at Lee.

"Thanks," I reply. Hagrid clearly wants to go to bed or whatever, so I go, "bye!" and cheerfully turn back around and go down the steps. "Ready?" I whisper to Lee, feeling around for his hand in the dark. "Uh, Lee? You can turn on the light now," I add.

"Right." The light comes on, and so we slowly start to advance towards the forest.

"Lee?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"What does Wolfsbane even _look_ like?"

"I thought you knew."

"Nope."

"I don't."

"Good one." So that was that. We were looking for something and we didn't even know what it bloody LOOKED like. "Maybe it's that bluish grey mushroomy thing…" I venture.

"Nah. That's Horney's Slimy Salamander Toadstools," Lee replies dismissively.

"Who the fuck named that?" I wonder aloud.

Lee laughs. "I think Horney was some guy who just happened to find it one day," he says.

"Lee?"

"Yeah?"

"Never, ever, say the name 'Horney' again. Please."

"Horney," Lee mumbles, laughing hysterically. I mean, what sort of person laughs at their own lame jokes? Oh, wait… That'd be me.

The forest is dark and scary, and all these strange noises are coming from it. Ones that make you stop and go, "whoa! What is going ON in here?" And then you see a few dozen pairs of freaky eyes staring up at you and you're all, "Oh yeah. That's what."

I stop suddenly, and Lee crashes into me. I don't know why he's behind me, seeing as how he has the lamp and all. Oh well. Girl power!

"Jeez, Bell," he complains, rubbing his chest where it collided with my head. "You've got a hard head."

"Shh!" I think I see something moving in the bushes up ahead. It's hard to tell what, though. The rustling gets louder and louder, until…

A huge, ugly orange cat leaps out of the bushes and starts hissing at us.

"It's a cat." Lee says flatly.

"You think?" I reply sarcastically. But for some strange reason, it looks really familiar. "I don't think he's very happy about us being out after dark," I say brightly.

"You think?" Lee echoes sarcastically. But he takes a step back, just in case, pulling me with him.

The freaky orange cat keeps on hissing and spitting at us, and every now and then it moves forward a step, so that Lee and I have to move back. I mean, what sort of self-respecting witch (or wizard) keeps an ORANGE cat? It's just not done.

"This is weird," I say, watching as the large cat-like creature (I don't think I should give it the privilege of being called a cat… it doesn't even remotely RESEMBLE one) hisses menacingly at us, creeping ever so slightly forward.

"I don't like cats," Lee says unexpectedly.

"Neither," I reply, not taking my eyes off the Thing.

"I know where I've seen it before!" Lee crows suddenly, startling me. "It looks _just like_ Professor Lockhart," he says.

Wow. That's really harsh. I mean, even though this cat is like, _way_ ugly and all, Lee's being a bit mean saying that it looks like him. Then I tilt my head to the side and squint at it. "Yeah," I say. "It really _does_ look like him!"

Lee looks smug, but just at that moment a great black shadow leaps past us. "Shit," Lee swears, "did you see that?"

Nah, Lee. It practically ran into me, but nah, I must've missed it. "Yeah," I say.

The Thing isn't even scared of it. Like, it just keeps advancing towards us, licking its cat-like lips as it savours the thought os roasting us on a stick…

Okay, okay. Not even huge, Lockhart-resembling cats can do that. But if it could, that's exactly what it would have.

"Lee," I say, "if I die, will you miss me?" Have I mentioned that I am a very morbid child?

"Sure," Lee says lightly. "Then I couldn't see you cry when you see something pink-" he shuts up as I elbow him in the stomach. Hard.

Just as I'm sure it will start biting me on the ankle or something, so that I'll have to try and kick it off, and it will end up flying in the air, still attached to my leg, a funny noise suddenly roars out of the forest. An old blue Ford is in front of us, with its doors wide open, practically inviting me and Lee to hop in and get out of here.

"No… way…" Lee breathes as he looks at it. And no wonder! The Weasley's car is in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, about to drive us away to safety. It's so crazy; people might actually believe it!

"I always knew Ron and Harry didn't smash it," I say satisfactorily, racing for the driver's side and jumping in.

"Not much, anyway," Lee adds grimly, peering through the smashed windscreen as the Thing continues to hiss at us. "Why do you get to go in the driver's seat? I'm older," he pouts.

"Yeah, but I'm more mature," I counter, sticking my tongue out at him.

Lee just raises an eyebrow, and suddenly we hear a noise like nails scraping on metal, and I turn around to see that the Thing has leapt up onto the car and is meowing from the back.

"Drive!" Lee yells, turning around and glaring at the Thing.

"I'm trying!" I yell back, taking my hand off the funny knobby thing long enough to punch him in the arm. "Stop telling me what to do." I stay silent for a moment, before I suddenly remember that I'm supposed to be driving us out of the forest.

It turns out I don't have to try and figure out which way to turn the steering wheel, etc, because the car suddenly takes off on it's own. We hear a funny wail coming from behind us, and I turn around to see the Thing, in all it's orange glory, fall off the back of the car. Lee and I both start to snicker. Classic.

The car dumps us at the edge of the forest, and Lee picks himself up cheerfully. "Well, that was fun," he says, grinning at me.

"Yeah," I reply brightly.

"Ready to go?"

"In a sec. I just want to grab some of Horney's Slimy Salamander Toadstools," I snigger. One never knows when they might come in handy.


	9. How Do You Lose In An APPLE BOB?

**A/N:** Wow. I finished this before I even posted the last chapter. I am so proud of myself. And this is the last chapter for October! Woo hoo! Only… eight… or nine… or ten… months to go. I'm not sure where I'm going to be ending it yet. (Oh my god, I've only done nine chapters and I'm already thinking about when it's going to end! Believe me, I don't want to end it! Honest!) Maybe the first day of her sixth year?

Anyway. Thanks to **CatherineMcq **for reviewing twice, and also a special thanks to**shadow929**, **Banoffee**, **sarcastic spastic**, **snuffles101**, **MotherCrumpet**, **lucid-03-days**, **shayacatalystscifigirl**, **PrincessPotter16. **

And yes, I read every single review. Also, someone (sorry, can't remember who it was) asked when the complication was going to happen. Well the truth is, I'm not sure, because if Katie has a complication in her life all the time, it would be so darn unrealistic (I mean, not that this story's realistic _anyway_, seeing as how there's magic and all involved :P). But yeah, there will be another one. Eventually. One day. In the not-so-distant future...

And for those of you who laugh easily; yeah, so do I. That's oneof the main reason why this story's funniness is so lame, because I love lame jokes (funny names, funny voices, funny sayings; you name it, I laugh at it). Lol.

And I guess most of you have gathered by now that I'm really random; I come up with the strangest, randomest things. So I guess you should learn to expect anything, right? Lol. So yeah, keep up the cool reviews! (And have you noticed how quickly I've updated?)

* * *

**October 31st: How Do You Lose In An APPLE BOB?**

I leap down to breakfast happily. After all, it's my second favourite day of the year- (after my birthday. Christmas doesn't count, 'cos that's EVERYONE'S favourite.) – Halloween!

I love Halloween because it's so _exciting_. You never know what will happen this year. Maybe a ghost will suddenly start stalking you, trying to avenge their long lost cousin whom your evil great uncle Morty killed, or bats will start to sleep in your dorm, or someone will carve a pumpkin that looks eerily like you. It's just so DIFFERENT.

And then there's the whole trick-or treat thing. I mean, even though I'm like, fifteen and a half, I still like collecting junk food off poor, unsuspecting victims because they assume I'm a small child who still believes in Santa. I did believe in Santa, too, right up until my first day at Hogwarts, when Fred and George told me he wasn't real. I cried and kicked them, and they've never forgotten it.

But that's another story. Right now, I glance adoringly up at the decorations surrounding the Great Hall. (Presumably) live bats hang from the ceiling, cool lit up pumpkins grin down at me and the tables have all creepy food on them, like carrots and peas, even though it's only breakfast.

"Hey!" I greet my friends (and other random people) cheerily.

The other random people looked scared. My friends just take it all in stride. "Halloween then, Katie?" Angelina observes, glancing at me.

"Yep," I reply energetically. I'm almost bouncing off the seat. I grab some waffles off a plate and then smear them in a funny orange paste and bite into it. George watches in a kind of horrified way, as I lick my lips and say how nice it was.

"Bell, that was triple hot chilli sauce," he smirks at Fred.

"What?"

"You know, _hot stuff_," Fred says seriously, then looks crestfallen. "You didn't taste it?"

"Nope," I say brightly. "My tastebuds burnt when you decided to give me an acid pop and dyed it purple in second year, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Fred says, the incident dawning on him.

"Classic," George says evilly, sighing as he remembers.

I had been going through a love of lollypops when Fred and George had brought me a huge purple one day. They had said that their brother Percy had brought it back for them, and so I shoved it in my gob straight away. Unfortunately, they had somehow managed to take an acid pop and dye it purple, and my tastebuds have never been the same since. But it makes me wonder: if they had to disguise it, just to get me to eat it, how had they made Ron eat one?

Needless to say, I've never accepted anything from them since.

"It's one of our new experiments," George explains. "We thought we'd try it on Katie, because we knew she'd eat anything orange."

Hmm. Was that a veiled insult? Before I can ponder it further, however, Lee interrupts.

"You should melt an acid pop and put it in there," he says.

Smooth, Lee. Just TELL them how to kill us! "No," I say quickly. "Why don't you try it on someone _with_ feeling? After all, you wouldn't want to get sued by potential customers."

"It'll wear off after a few hours," Fred protests.

I give them a hard look. "Mine hasn't worn off, and it's been _years_," I say.

Fred holds up his hands. "Okay, okay," he says. But I can see the look he gives George. And I know they'll be experimenting with melted Acid Pops in the next few hours. Just for that, I give Lee a hard kick.

"Ow! What was that for?" he asks crossly.

I roll my eyes, then decide to ignore him. "Hey Oliver," I say to Oliver, who is sitting on the other side of me. "How's it going?"

"Bell," Oliver acknowledges me with a nod of his head. He's leaning over some sort of thick book. "Alright, actually. But you know Quidditch season starts next month. The first game is only a few weeks away. We're going to need to start practising more often."

"Wood!" I cry exasperatedly. "We're the _only_ team that's been practising this month! Even though there's this little fact that _Quidditch hasn't even started yet_!"

"I know," Oliver informs me. "But we need to stay in top shape. We need to win this year. It's my last chance for the cup, you know. I've come up with a list of new plays, and a new training schedule. We're going to be training harder, faster and longer. And that's not all…"

I start to ignore him, too. Is _nobody_ sane today?

* * *

It's Herbology. We file into the classroom. We were assigned pairs at the start of the year, but luckily she noticed who was friends with who and so I was paired with Fred. Alicia is with Lee and Angelina was paired off with George. It worked out pretty well, actually, except she put Lee and Alicia over on the other side of the Greenhouse, and George and Ange a few tables in front. 

Today, we have to sit down at our tables while Professor Sprout explains what we are going to be doing.

"Today, we will be working with the Quince. It is a type of fig tree, and although many muggles use it, it has many magical healing properties. Today we will be extracting some of the root juice, but I must warn you not to damage them. It will shrivel up and die immediately, and we cannot grow them quickly. Please refrain from putting in any substance apart from water, as they will not take too kindly to it."

Wow. This sounds like a charming plant. 'Shrivel up and die immediately'? It sounds like a bit of mouldy cheese.

"Your Quinces are on the floor next to you. You may begin," she announces.

"Okay," I say blankly to Fred. "What are we doing?"

Fred shrugs. "Dunno," he says. But he picks up the plant and puts it on the table. It's really beautiful, too- brilliant green leaves and funny coloured little figs. It makes me almost feel bad that I have to practically squeeze the life out of its roots.

I put on my green dragon hide gloves and dig down into the soil and feel around for the roots. "Got them!" I say. "Now what do I do?"

"Squeeze them, I s'pose," Fred says, watching the plant intently.

"Cool," I say, a little grossed out. But I have too much pride to admit it, so I close my eyes and gently start to squeeze. It's really disgusting.

"Miss Bell," Professor Sprout says. "You are actually supposed to _collect_ the sap."

"Right," I say, giving her a 'no worries' smile. "Thanks."

I've just shut my eyes again when I feel a funny sensation on my hand, and then it starts burning. "Augh!" I shriek, pulling my hand out and waving it around. Right before my very eyes, the liquid is dissolving through my dragon-hided gloves, reducing them to little more than charred ash. "It burns! It burns!" I'm almost hysterical.

Fred is standing beside me guiltily. I notice that he's swiftly hiding a vial behind his back (which I suspect used to hold a considerable amount of melted acid pop mixture), and I run to him furiously. "What did you do?" I screech, all the while waving my hand about in the air fervently.

To his credit, he looks a little guilty. But he still doesn't answer, so I whack him hard on the head. (Of course, to achieve this, I have to jump up almost as high as I can.)

The class is in pandemonium. People are shouting loudly, running around and looking towards me urgently. Nobody seems to know what to do, whilst in the middle I am screaming about my hand. Hey. It hurts.

Fred clutches his head dramatically. "My head!" he shrieks in a pretty damn accurate impersonation of me. I hit him again, even harder, and this time I think I really DO hurt him. Mostly because he's sort of standing around, dazed.

"Katie!" I hear a voice yell. I turn around but can't figure out who said it.

"I'll save you!" and then, without warning, someone shoots a jet of water directly at me, so hard that I fall onto my bum in the ground. My hand has stopped burning, and where I had a glove there is just pink flesh, and Fred looks over apologetically at me.

I'm soaking wet, but the most I can muster up is a glare, which I send Fred's way.

Then someone starts laughing, and I turn to see who it is. It's Lee; he has got to be the most _unhelpful, meanest, annoying_ boyfriend EVER.

But then he comes and helps me up, then gives a hug despite the whole class watching; the teacher watching and the fact that I am sopping wet. So I guess he can be pretty sweet, too.

* * *

Halloween this year has so far proved to be very boring. I mean, where are the murderous ghosts, freaky bats and laughing Jack in the pumpkins? 

"I'm bored," I say dispiritedly. We're all up in the Gryffindor common room; we have a study period. I mean, seriously. Who actually STUDIES in a study period?

"I have an idea," Ange says suddenly.

"Yeah?" Fred asks. He's been looking very down since the incident in the Greenhouse. I think he actually feels bad about it. I don't know why he can't feel bad about the whole disappearing tastebuds thing.

"Let's have an apple bob!" she says excitedly.

I look at her sceptically.

"Come on," she says. "It'll be fun. Besides, Bell," she says, looking sideways at me, "it's a Halloween _tradition_. We can't last the whole day without doing it."

"Fine," I agree, "but if the whole House wants to join in, I bags first go."

It turns out that the whole House does want to join in, because as soon as Fred and George come down from their dorm with a large tub (don't ask me WHERE they found it… who knows what they hide in that cupboard of theirs…) and then when Ange and Lee bring back a huge bag of apples, half the House wants to have a go, too. Well, all the people in the common room.

"Can I have a go?" Lachlan Turris comes up and asks me, scratching his matted blonde hair.

"Uh… yeah, I guess," I say. I mean, it would be too mean for me not to let him. I can only hope that I get to go before him, otherwise I will be getting a mouthful of Lachlan Turris' boogies, instead of apples.

Then a seventh year comes up and asks, and so I let her join in, too.

"I'm going first!" Lachlan Turris exclaims excitedly, waving an arm in the air.

Angelina meets my gaze and pretends to vomit. "Okay," she says instead. "Just pick an apple that you can reach."

It's painfully obvious when Lachlan Turris has to go under the water not once, but four times, that he cannot apple bob for the life of him. And the more flustered he gets, the more he snorts, and the more the slime in his nose hangs down.

"Got it!" he crows, holding a small green apple in his hand like a trophy. The rest of us clap politely, until I take a closer look and almost gasp in shock.

Lachlan Turris' snot trail is gone.

"Katie," Alicia chirps, not noticing anything. "You're up next."

Oh, god, no. I desperately try to back out of it. "Uh, you know what, guys?" I ask, stalling for time.

Angelina narrows her eyes at me suspiciously. "Hurry up," she says. "We don't have all day."

"Uh, no, I'm not feeling that well…" It's not a lie. I really DON'T feel well. Not any more.

"Come on, Bell," Lee smiles patronisingly at me. "Scared of losing?"

Just how, exactly, do you lose in an APPLE BOB? But I don't say that. "Of course not," I scoff. I take a step forward and gulp reluctantly, before spying my target and diving headfirst into the freezing cold water.

The apple hits me in the nose before floating back up to the top, and so I have to surface again. Everyone looks at me expectantly, and so just as I take a deep breath to go back in for the kill, I try and stop mid motion. Because floating calmly on top of the water, centimetres from my face, is a thin silver trail. But by the time I notice it, I can't stop and so my face goes straight through it. I shriek under the water, filling my lungs up with it, but I manage to grab the apple in between my teeth.

"Got it," I mumble, although no one can hear me because of the apple.

Angelina stares at me, then takes a step closer. "Katie," she whispers, "you've got snot all over your face."

I spit the apple out, hitting Lachlan Turris in the head. "Eww!" I exclaim, then remember that I've injured Lachlan, who everyone is crowding around. "Sorry, mate," I grin apologetically, although what I'm REALLY sorry about is how it didn't knock him out. Preferably for a few days.

Lachlan Turris smiles and waves it off. "Forget about it," he says cheerfully, like I didn't just almost crack his skull open with an apple. "I'm fine."

Then the bell rings for lunch, and everybody files down into the Great Hall. I stay for a moment, wiping all the snot off with my sleeve. Lee waits for me.

"You know," he says, "Turris' snot really suits you."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically, reaching up and kissing him, then wiping snot all over his face. "It suits you too."

As we are walking down the stairs, I remember something. "Lee," I say, "how do you lose in an apple bob?"

"You can't." Lee grins wickedly. "I just knew you'd dive headfirst into it, anyway."

* * *

**A/N: **Hey. Yeah, sorry about the Halloween chapter (especially if I missed any details. Would you believe that I've never once, in my entire life, celebrated Halloween?) 

And I was just wondering... If I post this at 2:44pm (I can't remember what Time Zone I live in, so I'll just say it's Australia), on Saturday the 4th March 2006 , when does it get posted in other countries? I mean, some of the story alerts I have are emailed to me at like 1:00 in the morning or whatever, so I was just wondering when people got my story updates. That's all. Lol. That question has been bugging me for awhile now...


	10. I LIKE Not Being On the Team!

**A/N:** Hey, peoples! Yay! I'm so glad that I have holidays now. I mean, even if it means that the next two terms are going to be extra long... And the commonwealth games. I mean, who is ACTUALLY going to them? (Or going to be watching them?) But yeah, just 'cos we're part of the commonwealth, we get extra games. Yay.

Anyway. That's beside the point. (A point which I've forgotton...) I only had seven reviews last chapter. Seven. Count them: seven. But to those people who DID review... thank you! **Banoffee**, **shadow929**, **MotherCrumpet**, **snuffles101**, **PrincessPotter16**, **sarcastic spastic** and **scared-of-open-spaces** reviewed:D

* * *

**November 5th**

I'm currently trudging across the Quidditch pitch, dripping from head to toe and miserable.

Why? Because our 'Quidditch-is-my-life-and-I-will-never-get-another-chance' captain, a certain Oliver Wood, has decided that we should start practising even MORE frequently, so we can kick the Hufflepuff's arses and win the stupid shiny cup.

Well guess what, Oliver? We DO have another chance. So suck!

Anyway. This morning he woke us all up, bright and early. And the sun wasn't even shining. Which reminds me- how can he even REACH the girls' dorms, anyway? I mean, Lee, George and Fred can, but that's different. They're _smart_. Not that Oliver's stupid. I just think there's too much Quidditch going on inside his head to make room for anything else.

Have I mentioned that it's pouring outside? Yeah, that would explain why I'm a tad hesitant to come outside in the FREAKING RAIN.

Angelina agrees with Oliver. She's all, "we need the practice, guys! Hurry up!"

Alicia, on the other hand, is all; "I need this time to _study_!"

Whilst I am all, "I need this time to get some frickin' _sleep_!"

We all have serious issues. And 'Lic really needs to get her priorities straight.

"Bell! Faster!" Oliver yells, but I can barely hear him on account of how loud the wind is. Poor Harry looks like he's going to get blown over any minute. On the other hand, he's way taller than I am, even if he's skinnier.

"I'm going!" I scream back, slipping in the mud. I can just picture Lee watching all this out of the window, laughing his freaking head off. Yeah, laugh while you can, Lee! One day I'll pass you in Diagon Alley and you'll be cleaning all the owl poo off the road! Ha.

"Go get changed! We'll meet outside in five minutes!" Oliver commands, pointing at the change rooms.

Yeah, thanks for the directions, Oliver. I've only been playing Quidditch for four years, but hey, the location of the change rooms must have SLIPPED MY MIND.

"Why is he doing this to us?" I moan, pulling on my Quidditch robes.

Angelina gives me a stern look. "Do you _want_ to win the Quidditch cup or not?" she asks, lacing up her shoes.

"Not," I answer after thinking about it. "Just to see Oliver's face."

Angelina stares mutely at me.

"Okay," I amend, "it wouldn't be _that_ bad if we won. I'm just saying, unless Wood loosens up on the practise, we'll lose. We'll all start hating Quidditch, and then we'll turn so bad that everyone will throw tomatoes at us, and we'll fall off our brooms and quit, and he'll be the only one left on the pitch…"

"You are _so_ weird," Ange says, raising her eyebrows at me.

At the same time, Oliver shouts, "I heard that!"

I ignore him and go outside. "What do you want us to do?" I ask dully.

Fred and George snicker. "Yeah, Ollie," Fred says in a high pitched voice, "we could be painting our nails right now."

"No!" George shrieks dramatically. "I want to blow dry my hair!"

How does he even KNOW what a blow drier is? And can you even USE them in Hogwarts? Wow. There's a question to ponder.

"Knock it off," Oliver says to the twins, then turns to the rest of us. "Bell, Johnson, Spinnet," he bosses, "you practise the triple-tuck-and-roll over there. Weasley, Weasley-"

"What _is_ the triple-tuck-and-roll?" I interrupt.

Oliver stares at me. Why do people keep doing that this morning? "It's a triple-tuck-and-roll," he says. "How hard can it be?"

The concept clicks in my brain. Triple- that's three, right? Tuck- I guess he just means tuck our head under our armpit or something. And Roll- I suppose we have to roll over on our brooms. That might be a bit hard, though. "Oh," I say. "Gotcha."

Oliver rolls his eyes and continues. "Weasley, Weasley," he says, pointing to Fred and George. Why can't he just CALL them Fred and George, instead of 'Weasley and Weasley'? I mean, he could be pointing to the wrong Weasley! "You two try and aim for that statue, or something." He points to the statue that is directly above McGonagall's office. I'm not sure that is such a good idea, but when I go to interrupt me, he's all, "I'm the captain, Bell!"

Well then. See if I help him get out of that one.

"Aye, aye, captain!" Fred yells, saluting him solemnly.

"Potter, you just… do your thing," Oliver says seriously to Harry. "Mount up!"

"Wait!" George says. "What are _you_ going to be doing?"

Everybody else on the team sighs loudly. "I'll be blocking points," Wood snaps at George.

"Ah." George nods. "Thought so."

I kick off on my broom, mentally cursing Oliver every name under the sun. I mean, why couldn't we have a NORMAL captain? Maybe someone threw a bludger at him when he was a baby.

"Katie!" Alicia shouts. "Here!" She passes me the Quaffle, but I can't see it. I pull up, looking around when I suddenly feel something whizzing by my ear.

"Augh!" I yell, batting it away.

"What?" That was Alicia. She sounds very far away.

Then I feel something cold and wet poke my ear. "AUGH!" I scream.

"Katie?" the voice sounds surprised.

"H- Harry?" I ask, not even bothering to try and keep the shock out of my voice. "What the fuck are you DOING?"

I can see his face now. His eyes look huge behind his glasses, and he looks at me apologetically. "Sorry," he says, not sounding all that sorry. He looks a bit like he's going to laugh. "I thought I saw the Snitch next to you, except then I couldn't see because my glasses fogged up and so I had to feel around for it."

"Into my ear?" I ask sceptically.

"Er… sorry?" he offers. "I didn't mean to."

"HARRY! LOOK OUT!" A voice screams, and Harry ducks just in time, because a bludger passes right through where his head was, so fast that I can feel the wind from it against my ear. Or maybe that's just the normal wind.

"You alright?" I ask. I can't even see him.

"Fine," Harry mumbles from somewhere below me.

"This is stupid!" Alicia grumbles from behind me. "I can't even bloody see."

No kidding, Alicia. "Yeah," I say instead. "I hate Wood." Wow. It can be like a new campaign- I HATE WOOD all over some banners and signs. We could have badges, stickers... the possibilities are endless.

"Me too," Fred agrees, coming up somewhere next to Harry. "Sorry about that, mate. I was really aiming for Katie."

…Okay then… "Fred!" I yell. "Haven't you done enough damage to me lately?"

"Like what?" George asks.

I roll my eyes, glad that Oliver probably can't see us from his spot near the goal posts.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL GOSSIPING ABOUT?" Oliver shouts at us. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE PRACTICING!"

No kidding, Oliver. I mean, we're just out here at five in the morning on a rainy day because we all had a sudden urge to get wet. "Ollie!" I yell back. "This is too hard!"

"WHAT?"

God, could he BE any louder? "I said," I say calmly, "this is too hard."

"Why?" Wood comes up behind me. So now we're all having a little chat in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Yippee. I just gesture at Alicia, signalling for her to take over.

"It's raining," she says.

"It's cloudy," George yells.

"It's too early!"

"It's too wet!"

"It's too stupid!" That last one earned me a couple of strange looks. "Well. It is," I insist. "The whole thing is stupid."

"Are you quitting?" Oliver actually looks shocked.

I roll my eyes at him. "No," I say slowly. "I'm just saying that you're a moron for bringing us out here at four-thirty in the morning, in the pouring rain and howling wind, just to try and catch some balls."

"Are you calling me a moron?"

How slow can you get? "Yeeeeees," I say slowly.

"You're fired!"

Um. No. Way. "What?" I blurt out.

"You're. Fired." Oliver says in the same slow way, as if he is talking to a two-year-old, instead of a fifteen-and-a-half year old. (I'm very proud of the half bit, in case you haven't noticed.)

"You can't just kick me off the team!" I cry. "This is inhumane!"

"Where'd you learn a big word like that?" Fred wants to know.

"Help out here, guys!" I yell at my friends plus Harry. But seeing as, you know, how Harry keeps on saving the world, therefore saving me, I guess he can be counted as a friend, too.

Harry looks apologetic.

Fred looks like he wants to laugh.

So does George.

Alicia looks like she's wondering what time it is.

Angelina raises her eyebrows at me.

So I'm on my own. "I didn't do anything!"

"You called me a moron," Oliver says patiently. "Therefore, you are insulting your captain, which displays bad sportsmanship, which is against the regulations of Quidditch."

"Um. Okay," I say slowly.

"Just say you're sorry and you want to go back on the team," Alicia says flatly.

"Never!" I yell, trying to sound all heroic. All it gets me is six people's pitying stares. You know, like I'm crazy or something. I'm not crazy, but I think my brother Michael dropped me on my head as a baby. Then everyone covered it up, so no one ever knew…

Anyway. "_You_ say sorry," I point accusingly at Wood.

"I didn't do anything," he says confusedly.

"Yes, you did."

"Just get off the pitch," Fred teases.

"Boo!" George calls out. "Off with ye head!"

Everyone stares at him. "Okay," he amends, "just get off the field."

"I'll come back!" I call out as I slowly descend, whilst the others watch me. "Mark my words! I'll be back!"

* * *

I'm already missing the fact that I'm not on the Quidditch team, and it's only just after lunch. I mean, when you're a Quidditch team member, everyone comes up and goes, "Hi!" and they all pretend to like you. It's like you're a superstar, or something. Well, a sports superhero. 

Now no one knows my name, and I've only been off it for eight hours. I mean, how can they all suddenly forget my name, just like that?

Maybe Oliver bribed them. But no, he wouldn't have gone so far to bribe the Slytherins, would he?

Before, this Slytherin dude, I think his name was Crabby, or something, was all, "hey, look! It's a Gryffindork! Hahaha!" In this really stupid voice. I sincerely hope that wasn't his normal tone. If it was, I should have told him to go and visit his local speech therapist.

Normally they at least KNOW our names, so they'd be like, "hey, look! It's that Gryffindork Bell! Hahaha!"

Anyway. I was trying to completely ignore 'Lic, Ange, Fred and George on account of how they didn't go and tell Oliver to go jump off a cliff. Although knowing him, he'd take a broom with him.

"Katie," George hisses from behind me. "We're really sorry. Honest," he adds as I turn around and fix him with my most dubious look.

As if. They probably want something from me. Like… well, I'm not sure what. But they're being nice. And that's scary.

"Yeah, Katie," Angelina chimes in.

I raise an eyebrow. At least we're only in History of Magic, so it's not like he'll tell us off for talking or anything.

"I don't see why you can't just say you're sorry and ask to be back on the team," Alicia grumbles. "It would save less trouble for all of us."

"Alicia!" Ange yells. "Now you've gone and ruined our plan."

Oh yeah, guys. Subtle. Real subtle. "You had a plan?" I ask, happy at the thought that they had to devise a master plan JUST to try and get me back on the team.

"Oh yeah," George assures me. "It was really good, too. Right guys?"

"Yeah," everyone agrees.

"Well it won't work," I say huffily, "because I LIKE not being on the team. So there."

Lee looks at me. "You were just complaining before how no one knows your name any more and how you already missed it," he says.

Stupid unsupportive boyfriend.

"You were?" Fred asks, blinking.

"That's pathetic," George laughs.

I groan. "I was _joking_," I say, glaring at Lee. I kick him under the table, and it connects with his shin. Good. I hope that hurt, Mr Traitor. Because I am NOT talking to you again. EVER.

"She wasn't," Lee counters, smirking at me.

"Yes I _was_!" I cry loudly.

"I don't think you were," Angelina says, grinning at me. "You've haven't been off the job for half a day and you already miss us!" she crows.

"Um. No, I don't," I say, raising an eyebrow at her. "Now stop interrupting me. Some of us are actually _trying_ to do some work here, you know." I turn back around and try to concentrate on what Binns is saying, but after like two seconds it all just rolls into one looooong thing and I can't understand any of it. There goes that plan.

Then Lee does a Horrible Thing. He quietly grabs Alicia's quill and starts tickling me under the arms with it.

I laugh so hard that I fall off my chair and the whole class, including Professor Binns, is looking at me. But Lee doesn't stop. "Say that you'll go back on the team," he demands.

"Why?" I ask, in between fits of not-so-dignified laughter.

"Because otherwise I'll be stuck with you moaning about how you should be out there," Lee replies. "And we need to win the cup."

I'm flattered that he thinks I'll help Gryffindor win the cup. "No…" I mumble.

"Say it."

Why am I even going out with him? "No…"

Then Angelina grabs a quill, and pretty soon all of them (except Alicia, because she can't find her quill) are tickling me. "Okay!" I gasp, and they stop. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay I'll go and beg for Oliver's forgiveness and apologise for calling him a moron and thinking that he is a raving lunatic who will grow up to be the dictator of a large country."

They all just stare at me, until Alicia suddenly shouts, "Lee! Why do you have my quill?"

"Oh," Lee says sheepishly, looking down at the feather in his hand. "I didn't want to get Katie germs on mine."

* * *

Gasp... Katie germs. How horrifying for him. Anyway... please review? Please? 


	11. My Boyfriend's Name Is LEROY!

**A/N:** Woo hoo! 100 reviews! Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed. I really appreciate it! My 100th reviewer was **IddamSoyt** (a extra big cookie for you!) so thanks! Oh, and I forgot to say this in the last chapter, so I'll say it now. My 110th reviewer (I was going to make it 100, but yeah... I forgot) can be in the story as one of Katie's brother's girlfriend in an upcoming chapter (or boyfriend... you know, whatever floats your boat). But only if you want to... Yeah. But I can't ask if you leave an anonymous review, so if you want, you can just say what you want the character to be called, it's appearance, etc. And the first person to review this chap can have a character named after them, too. Because I'm too lazy to come up with my own. :D

Anyway. This is actually the longest chapter yet. Something like 3255 words... again, not including the author's note. And for some reason, the author's note is a long one... again... hmm.

Thanks to my reviewers: (you all recieve a special prize!) **Banoffee**, **shadow929**, **snuffles101**, **MotherCrumpet**, **the Lovely Lucinda**, **sarcastic spastic**, **shayacatalystscifigirl**, **PrincessPotter16**, **IddamSoyt**, **CatherineMcq** and **scared-of-open-spaces**.

**

* * *

****November 12th**

Alicia, Lee, Fred, Angelina, George and me walk across the grounds at Hogwarts. We've just come back from an eventful Hogsmeade trip.

It's an icky day, and the clouds are all dark and grey and it smells like it's going to rain. When I mention this, my buddies look at me like I'm crazy.

"_What_ did you just say?" Ange asks, stopping in her tracks.

I shrug. "You know, it smells like rain."

"You can smell rain?" Fred asks. "Cool. I can smell the sunshine, you know," he adds solemnly.

I grin and give him a shove. "No, you idiot. It just smells like rain."

"Yes…" Lee says sceptically, putting an arm around my shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself thinking too hard."

"Shut up. I'll have you know, I am _very_ intelligent." I say proudly.

"Oh?" George asks, as we start wading through the ankle deep snow. "We need proof!"

"Well…" I have to think a bit. "In first year, I got top marks in Defence!" I say triumphantly. So what if it was four years ago… it's not like my talent has suddenly disappeared.

"Katie," Alicia frowns, "that was only because we had Professor Nubert, who, if I remember correctly, is you fourth cousin thrice removed. It's called _favouritism_."

"Was not," I say, sticking out my tongue. "Anyway, she divorced the man that was actually related to me, so she's not technically my fourth cousin thrice removed, now. I think it's more like fourth cousin four times removed…" I shake my head. "Whatever. How do cousins even get removed, anyway?"

Fred and George (who surprisingly, know a lot about this sort of stuff) start explaining it to me, but I just nod and go, "uh huh. Oh? Really?" It's all a bit too advanced for my liking.

"Hey guys," I say, stopping near the lake. (I know, I know. Why would I be near the lake? I was actually just checking to see if it was frozen enough to go ice-skating… it wasn't.)

"What?" Lee asks, coming over beside me.

"What do they look like to you?" I ask, pointing to a set of funny shapes in the ground.

We all stand around, staring at them. "Dunno," George offers finally. "Some sort of stamp…"

"A calling card," Fred announces. When we all give him a weird look, he adds, "you know. Like owl droppings…"

"We know what they are," Alicia cuts him off. "But they're not poo."

"Maybe a little first year was trying to dig a snowpit," I suggest. Needless to say, no one feels compelled to answer that.

It's Ange who realises what they are first. Or close enough, anyway. "Footprints!" she shrieks.

"No…" says Lee slowly, a look of realisation dawning on him. "_Paw_prints!"

Why is there pawprints next to the lake? Just as I'm all set to solve a mystery, I remember that plenty of people at Hogwarts have cats.

"Maybe," I say softly to Lee, "it's The Thing's prints. Maybe it's come back to get revenge!" I shriek the last part a bit too loudly, so the others sort of look at us all weird.

"What's The Thing?" Lee asks, confused.

"You know, that orange furball," I reply. At the others' questioning looks, I say, "don't worry."

"Nah," Lee shakes his head. "These are too small for that."

I raise my eyebrows doubtfully. Just how big did Lee think the freaking cat was?

"Whatever," George says, already bored. "It's probably just a cat."

"Yeah, Hermione's cat that got rid of ickle Ronniekin's fat rat," Fred replies, and the two simultaneously burst into laughter.

Okay then. Because that's real normal… "Let's go," I say, looping my arm through Ange and Alicia's. "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Loss!"

"Shut up," Alicia howls, as her and Ange laugh hysterically at my expense.

"Fine then," I reply, miffed. We walk up to the Gryffindor common room, and I run up the last flight of stairs ahead of the others, so that I can be first in the room, and then be all, "haha! I won!"

But when I get there, there's already a few people there, standing around strangely. And I take a closer look, gasping, "Oh my god! Someone tried to assassinate the Fat Lady!"

"What the hell?" Ange runs up and stares too. Where the Fat Lady used to be is a huge slash on the portrait and she's gone. All the other portraits are grumbling about "youths these days" and stuff.

"Someone go get Dumbledore!" Percy Weasley yells, as he comes up behind Alicia. Is everyone stalking us today or something?

"Harry?" Alicia says, but he doesn't hear her. He's staring at the painting, looking as white as a ghost.

"Coming through, coming through," Percy calls, as he moves up the line behind Dumbledore, who's just appeared. The crowd moves to allow him through, but just as Percy tried we all come back together and he has to force us apart. "I'm Head Boy, you know!"

"Order a search of the castle for the Fat Lady," Dumbledore says solemnly to Filch, as he peers over his glasses at the mangled painting.

"No need, Professor," Filch replies in his smarmy voice. You know, the one that he turns on kids who he finds in the broom closets. "She's right there." He points a gnarled finger up at a painting on the next staircase, and we all push and shove to get near it.

She's hiding behind a stripey horse. And she's all, "it's him, you know. The one they all talk about!"

And Dumbledore says calmly, "who did this to you, Madame?"

She shakes a bit more for dramatic effect then announces, "Sirius Black!"

Everyone bursts out laughing… no, just kidding. Everyone starts yelling and shouting and Dumbledore orders for the school to be put under a lock-down and for all us Gryffindors to go down to the Great Hall.

Poor Harry looks even paler than before, and Hermione starts whispering something to him, whilst Ron shouts, "bloody hell!" Then again, he even said that when Fred showed him his magically enlarged finger, so it's not something unusual.

"Do you really think it was?" Alicia asks.

Nah, Alicia, the Fat Lady just wanted to cause a stir. You know, shake things up a bit. "Maybe it was your long-lost cousin!"

"Huh?" Lee asks, looking at me all weird.

I roll my eyes. "Maybe it was your long-lost cousin," I repeat.

"Huh?"

I sigh dramatically. "You know, since you're related to everyone."

"I am not!" Lee says, pretending to be offended.

"You are," Fred says, coming up on his other side.

"Sorry, good lad," George adds, walking beside Fred. "You are."

"You could even be related to Katiekins," Fred says cheerfully. "So just think-"

"-When you're snogging her-"

"-In a broom closet-"

"-You could be snogging-"

"-Your third cousin twice removed!" Fred finishes, grinning at us.

"Incest!" Angelina yells, pretending to vomit.

I almost throw up, and give Lee a sideways glance. I mean, I don't _think_ we're related. Oh my god I'm RELATED to my BOYFRIEND!

"Just kidding," George says quickly when he notices my greenish tinge. "You're not really. If you were, I'm sure my mum would know."

"Your mum would know if I was related to Lee?" I ask sceptically.

Fred shrugs. "Sure," he says. "In fact, I think we're related to you," he says.

Oh no! What if I was related to Gred and Forge? My life would never be the same. In fact, I wouldn't admit it! I'd be turned away from jobs, have apples thrown at me… the horror!

"Yeah right," Alicia says. "You, being related to Katie?"

"Hey don't forget me!" George pouts as we walk into the Great Hall, and see that the Slytherins are already in there. Oh, joy.

"You could be related to Angelina," I hear Lee say to Fred as we look for a decent place to sit.

"Cool! All your babies would be mutants," George says excitedly.

I laugh. Ange is going to have mutant babies!

"How about; none of us is related to the other," Alicia says quickly, as Fred goes to retaliate.

"What about George and Fred?" I ask smugly. Ha. Bet she didn't think of that one.

"They don't count, since they look the same," Lee answers, and we grin at the indignant expressions on the other's faces.

"Maybe your mum and dad are related, and that's why you're so strange," I say conversationally to Fred, as we find a corner all by ourselves and far away from most of the Slytherins.

"And maybe you were hit by a Bludger when you were a baby!" he says hotly.

Whoa. Down, boy. "Yeah," I say instead, "I think it was Chris."

"How many brothers do you have, anyway?" Ange asks.

I'm shocked. The woman has stayed over at my house countless times, been my best friend for almost five years and she STILL doesn't know my family. It's a tragedy. "Three," I reply, sounding a bit piqued.

"Yeah, I knew it was a lot," Ange dismisses.

She really needs to take Arithmacy.

"Wow," Fred says, sounding surprised, "it's dark already."

Well. That was a random change in subject. "They could be trying to fool us," I reply. "Like a conspiracy…"

"You watch too much television," Alicia laughs.

Television… that funny box with people in it, right? Whoa, Muggle-speak is hard. It's like learning a new language. Which is especially difficult if you rarely pay attention, like me.

When everyone's gathered in the Great Hall and seated, Dumbledore goes up to the podium and addresses us. "Students," he says, "as you all know, there has been a break in at Hogwarts. While the person could not, in fact, access the Gryffindor common room, he damaged the portrait guarding it severely and so Sir Cadgoden has valiantly offered to guard the Gryffindor common room."

There is a loud chorus of groans at this news. Sir Cadgoden- or 'Caddy' as Fred and George call him- is a raving lunatic. Seriously. I mean, do NORMAL people go around shouting, "ahoy there!" when they're not even pirates?

And there's the whole issue of him trying to fight people, when he's stuck in a painting and can't even climb on his fat donkey.

Dumbledore looks amused, then resumes his solemn expression. Jeez, he could get a job at that Muggle place- McDonald's. All the people there look all sad and depressed, 'cos they have to work at a place that has a scary clown with Weasley colour hair as their mascot.

"The teachers are scouring the castle now, but I expect the culprit will not be caught. Please remain alert at all times, and lights out will be in thirty minutes. Good night." Dumbledore turns around to talk to Professor Flitwick.

"How cool is this?" Fred asks excitedly.

Alicia glares at him. "Hogwarts is supposed to be impenetrable," she answers. "If that… person could get through, what makes you think Dementors won't?"

I roll my eyes. "Duh. Maybe Sirius Black died, but remained a ghost and he went through the walls," I reply. How cool would that be? A ghost threatening the Fat Lady to open the door, even though he could have just floated through it. It would've been better if Nearly Headless Nick had got him, then they could've had a ghost fight. Can ghosts even strangle each other? Do they die again and again? Maybe they're like cats. You know, the whole nine lives part, without the furballs.

"As if," George scoffs. "How could he put that mark on the painting then?"

Hmm. The man has a point. I look around to see who'll retaliate, then realise it was me who said he was a ghost. Damn. "Peeves dumped the bucket of pink paint on Lee that time," I remind them, "and was that or was that not _real_ paint, Mr Jordan?"

"Um. Real?" Lee says, raising his eyebrow.

"Aha! So you see, ladies and gentlemen, it is _possible_ for a ghost to do real things. Defence has nothing further," I nod to George solemnly.

"Well I'd like to call upon my witness… Miss Alicia Undine Spinnet," George cackles.

Undine? And the girl's parents aren't even magical! I mean, it's sad when a magical family gives their children retarded names. But non-magical? That's bordering pathetic. My parents are pathetic too, for naming me something remotely normal. Katie Bell. Is that the most boring name you've ever heard of what? Yeah. Thought so.

Everyone spontaneously bursts out laughing at her name, and Alicia goes bright red. "Shut up, George Alfredous Weasley," she says smugly.

I laugh again. Alfredous! Classic.

"Oh yeah?" George says, glancing evilly at Fred. "It's not as bad as Frederick Galarius Weasley!"

Oh my god. That could sound like a swear word, if you weren't really paying attention… I bet if I said that within a mile radius of my mother she'd wash my mouth out with lavender soap. I mean, then I'd stink. And the whole issue of having bubbles pouring out of my mouth. I wonder what that'd be like. Yeah. I'm going to try that when I next see her…

"Well," Fred says, having got over his embarrassing middle name, "at least mine isn't Angelina Horacia Johnson."

Hahaha. Fancy having that as your name. How would you feel? Like a loser, probably. This is so cool- we're having a competion to see who has the most retarded middle name!

Angelina grins and pauses thoughtfully. "Got it!" she exclaims. "Mine isn't as bad as Lee Barnabas Jordan!"

I fall about laughing, until Lee says, "what's the prize for the worst name?"

"You have to share a sleeping bag with Katie!" George yells, and him and Fred start laughing all over again.

I just hope Fred doesn't win. He has smelly feet.

"In that case," Lee grins slowly; "I should tell you that my _real_ name is Leroy Barnabas Jordan the third."

"What?" I scream. "My boyfriend's name is LEROY and I wasn't notified of this trivial information?"

"Yeah, man," George says as he wipes tears from his eyes, "that's a bit harsh."

Lee shrugs, smiling like the cat that got the cream. "What can I say? My parents have issues."

Oh yeah. Mr and Mrs Jordan must have serious issues for calling their kid LEROY. I mean, that is beyond strange- it's cruel! It's worse than Stormie. I am so glad my parents love me after all. One time I told that that they must hate me, because I only had a normal name instead of a really long one like all my friends and they said one day I'll thank them. Well, I think that day has come.

"What happens if I win?" I ask suddenly. I mean, I don't want to share a sleeping bag with myself! Then I'd be lonely. And we can't have that.

"Depends," Fred replies, looking at me curiously. "What's your name?"

"Katherine Elithabethmentia Bell," Leroy supplies. I love calling him that- I'm going to make him regret the day he announced that his real name was Leroy.

What the hell? It sounds like I have dementia, or something. "No," I reply. "Guess again." This is great, 'cause they'll never think of a plain boring one like mine.

"Kathleen?" Alicia ventures. I realise I've never told my friends my name. If it wasn't so sad it'd be funny.

"Nope."

"Kaitlina?" What sort of a name is that?

"No."

"I give up," Angelina sighs. "What is it?"

I roll my eyes at her, cross that she gave up so easily. "Katie Bell."

"No it's not," George laughs.

I glare at him, but he doesn't really care. "Yeah, it is."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is!"

"Is not!"

"Is damn well too!"

"Shut up," Alicia snaps. "Now, Katie," she says nervously, "I don't think that is your name. Just tell us what it is, and then we can award the prize."

I sigh exaggeratedly and flop down on my purple sleeping bag; everyone's got one. They all just miraculously appeared, like magic. Pretty cool, really. "My parents didn't want to give me a weirdo name," I tell them, "so they didn't bother giving me a middle name. Well, my brother came up with one when I was five, but I told my mum and she washed his mouth out with lavender soap."

"What was it?"

"Pumpkinhead," I reply flatly.

Lee laughs. "And you thought mine was bad!"

"Technically I thought they were all hideous," I say, smirking at their names. I hang out with a bunch of freaks.

"Okay, Mr Weasley, and I, Mr Weasley shall now go and decide the winner," Fred announces gravely. Was he the first Weasley mentioned or the second? Sigh. This always ends up confusing me…

The lights are just about to be turned off when Fred and George finally come up with a winner. "And the winner is…" Fred pauses, and looks to his brother.

"Mr Leroy Barnabas Jordan the third!" George has stood up in the middle of the Great Hall, so that everyone on our half (and some people at the opposite end of the room) are looking at us. "He shall now collect his prize of sleeping with Katie Bell!"

"Mr _Weasley!_" Professor McGonagall is scandalised. "What _are_ you raffling off?"

Several people laugh.

"What do you mean, Professor?" George looks at McGonagall innocently.

"You know very well what I mean!" she exclaims. "I cannot tolerate you auctioning off other people for use!"

Oh my god. She didn't just say that. I look at George, and he's keeping a straight face- barely. Angelina is snorting, trying to contain her laughter; Fred is grinning; Alicia looks horrified, and Lee looks at me, raises his eyebrows suggestively then bursts into laughter.

"What if she volunteered?" George asks easily.

I can just hear my mother- scarlet woman! What exactly IS a scarlet woman, anyway? Someone who sleeps in other people's purple sleeping bags?

"I didn't!" I interject. "And I think you got the wrong end of the stick, Professor," I say, desperately trying not to laugh.

"I heard you loud and clear," Professor McGonagall's steam seems to have evaporated.

"We were just having a competion to see who's name was worse," I say, seeing as how George is just looking from me to McGongall and grinning. "And George just decided to put my name in at the end because he's a prat. Nothing was meant by it, honest."

"I see." McGongall's mouth twitches. "Well you best be in your beds," she says. Just as she turns to go and check on the other students, she leans forward and whispers, "my middle name was Hippodameia."

I gap at her back. That's worse than ALL of our names put together!

"Katie," Fred hisses.

"Yeah?"

"You have to get in the sleeping bag with Lee," he insists. "He won fair and square."

"Fine." I grumble. At least they're big and cosy- I wonder if Dumbledore conjured them with the idea in mind that two students could sleep in one?

"Katie?" Lee asks.

"Yeah?"

"Move over. You're hogging all the room."

"Well sor-ry." I say sarcastically.

"That's okay."

"Katie?"

"Yeah?"

"Your elbow's in my stomach."

"Sorry," I move over. "That better?"

"Yeah."

"Night, Lee."

"Night, Katie."

I'm just glad all my brothers have left Hogwarts. Imagine if they came across me tomorrow morning in the same purple sleeping bag as Lee. They might get ideas…

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah. I realise this was pretty random. And sorry if I didn't get the details exactly right (not that I was aiming to) but I don't have a book to check. So it's basically my version... not that there's anything wrong with that... 

Before I go, I just have to say: GO AUSTRALIA! (You know, in the commonwealth games and all...)

Wow. It's really weird. I've never really been one for patriotism. Yeah. Review please!


	12. Do You HAVE Any More Pairs Of My Socks?

**November 18th: Do You HAVE Any More Pairs Of My Socks?**

It's cold. I hate the cold. Like, as if it isn't freezing enough in Scotland or wherever we are, it has to go and have winter.

Winter sucks.

I don't see why the stupid founders four couldn't have gone and built Hogwarts in Jamaica or something. Don't you think I could learn better if the school was in Jamaica? Then I wouldn't have to concentrate on finding extra pairs of woolly socks to keep my poor toes warm, and could be doing something useful instead. Like plotting ways to sabotage the Hufflepuffs before the Quidditch game tomorrow.

I know, I know. It's bad sportsmanship to sabotage the other team, as Wood keeps telling us. Then he leans forward and says, "use red and gold paint."

Hello? I could report him for that. I mean, then maybe I would get picked for captain of the Gryffindor House Quidditch team! But then I'd have responsibility. And I don't know if I could handle that. I'll settle for vice-captain.

It's lucky for Wood he let me back on the team. Otherwise we'd lose. They'd have to use some other person in my place, who doesn't know anything about Quidditch and will probably have an anxiety attack the first time Oliver tells them that the hopes of a nation are pinned solely on their shoulders.

He is such a wanker. I mean, it doesn't even make sense!

Besides, Lee knows my name. It's a good thing he does, too. Otherwise, when he was commentating, he'd be all, "And Johnson passes to Spinnet! Spinnet passes to… oh, that dude who replaced Bell!"

And that minor fact that it's always handy to know your girlfriend's name.

Anyway. I can't find my really comfy woollen socks, the ones that are so huge they take my shoe size up a few sizes. I think Fred borrowed them in Herbology last month… hmm.

I stomp up the boy's dormitory stairs, ignoring the little second year that goes, "hey! I know you! You're the girl that has the massive gap in her mouth!" I mean, he shut up and all when I showed him my fist. I have very scary fists.

"Yeeees?" George asks, when I bang on the door loudly. He only opens it enough to poke his head out.

"Tell Frederick I want my socks back!" I demand. I hold up a purplish-blue foot. "Look!"

"Oh, Frederick!" George calls to his partner in crime. "There's a little goblin at the door for you!"

"I hope it brought money," I hear Fred grumble. Like George, he only pokes his head out of the room. "Anything you desire, Katiekins?" he asks annoyingly when he sees me.

I glare at him. "I demand my socks back!"

"Huh." He looks genuinely stumped for a few seconds, so I remind him that he stole them during Herbology last month and that they were red and gold. "Oh. Yeah. _Those_ socks," he says, the memory of the socks dawning on him.

"Do you _have_ any more pairs of my socks?" I ask sarcastically.

"Actually-" his voice is muffled and I can't see him, which almost certainly means he's under his bed- "yeah. Here." He dumps a huge box full of assorted socks- black, blue, red, hot-pink-and-neon-green-ones-that-I-can't-remember-ever-even-owning- into my arms, then slams the door quickly.

I set down the box, amazed that one person could steal so many socks. And then I realise that my feet haven't been growing since I turned eleven- it's just Fred stole all my socks that fitted me, leaving me with the too small ones. Wow. It's so pathetic it almost makes me sniffle.

I bang on the door again.

"Yeeees?" George asks again, grinning. "Oh, hello, Katiekins."

"Hi," I reply suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, this and that," George answers vaguely, and I hear a loud _thump_ from inside the dorm.

"What was that?" I ask curiously. I try to peer past the door, but George keeps it firmly shut.

"Oh, nothing," he says innocently. He looks back at whoever's on the other side, and hisses, "cut it out!"

"Right." I say sceptically, raising an eyebrow. "Can I come in?"

George looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. "I'll just go and converse with my comrades," he replies seriously. The door is slammed in my face again, and I pull on my thick red-and-gold socks.

"Ah," I say, relief flooding through me as my toes begin to unfreeze and come back to life. I wonder if I could sue Fred. For, you know, attempted murder. After all, my toes nearly dropped off.

"Messieurs Jordan and Weasley agree that you may come in," George says solemnly, standing back slightly to allow me to pass.

Uh, hello? I am not that skinny, George, unlike your girlfriend. _I_ actually need room to pass! "Move over," I grin evilly, shoving him out of the way.

When I get into the fifth year's boys' dorm, it isn't what I expected. I mean, sure, I've been in there tons of times (don't tell my mum or she'll brand me a 'scarlet woman' for life) but they'd really changed it.

I mean, what was with the huge drawing on the wall? I walk up closer, and realise it's a map. A map of the Hufflepuff common room, to be exact. I can see where all the dormitories are… hey! I can see Hannah Abbot's room. Well she might just get a surprise from under her pillow tonight…

I smirk mischievously as I picture all the wonderful things I can do to the Hufflepuffs. Blow up their bathroom, decorate their common room in red and gold (an oldie, but a goodie), put funny smelling orange paste in their beds…

"And what are you grinning about?" a mock-haughty voice asks me. Lee grins, then gives me a kiss, whilst smearing black paint all over my face.

"What are you doing?" I question, eyeing the bucket of paint in his hand distrustfully. I mean, it's not that I don't trust Lee with a bucket of paint… well, yeah, I don't.

"Oh." Lee dismisses the question with a dangerous wave of the bucket. "Sabotaging the Hufflepuffs."

Wow. That is so weird. "I was just imagining ways to do that," I tell him cheerfully. "Need any help?"

"Nah-"

"Need I remind you that I am on the opposing team and have several disliked acquaintances in that particular house, so therefore I am more likely to be liable to do more damage than you could ever hope to cause?" I interrupt him. Well. _I_ thought I sounded smart.

"Okay, okay," Lee holds up his hands in an 'I surrender' motion.

"Can Ange and 'Lic come too?" I ask excitedly. I'm really beginning to get excited about this. We can dress in black and camouflage pants. I have a pair of them. I think I'll wear them. Yeah. And smear black goo all over my face, so that I'm invisible.

"No!" Fred bursts out hurriedly. When I give him a weird look, he says, "it's just that, you know, they might not like the idea…"

"Ange will freaking love it!" I exclaim. But on second thoughts, I remember that next year she wants to be captain, so maybe it's not such a good idea to start her campaign by causing the other team to lose. I mean, she might just not be accepted. "Oh yeah," I say, when Fred shoots me a triumphant look.

"So, General," I say to Fred, who appears to be in charge of this whole operation. I wonder what gave me that idea… maybe the fact that he had a huge hat on his head, stating 'GENERAL'. "What should I do in Operation-attack-the-Hufflepuffs-and-make-them-lose?"

Fred tilts his head thoughtfully. "I've got it!" he yells. "We'll call this Operation-attack-the-Hufflepuffs-and-make-them-lose!"

Uh, yeah, Fred. That's what I just said. "That's what I just said!" I cry indignantly.

He shrugs. "Too bad. Hmm… here's the plan," he says, gesturing for everyone to huddle forward. Me, George, Lee and Fred all huddle up, and Fred looks round at us excitedly. "Here's how we'll do it…"

I get up quietly. Well, I meant to get up quietly. Two broken bedsprings, one banged head, three stubbed toes and a broken nail later, I'm dressed in my camouflage clothes. Which, in my case, consist of a pair of army pants and a black jacket, along with my black beanie.

When I get downstairs, Fred and Lee are waiting for me. Apparently George had to run back up and bring down the black goo (which was my idea).

"I'm cold," I complain for the millionth time. I mean, did you know that the House elves let the fire die out? No, neither did I. If you ask me, they should sack them. For failing to do their fire-making duties right.

"I'm not," Lee replies mildly. I think he and Fred have sort of learnt to drown out my complaints. I mean, I don't MEAN to complain a lot. It just sort of comes out of my numb mouth. Well, that and the fact my brain is so mooshed I can't even process the reason I'm out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Well. It might still be today. Or yesterday. Or this morning. Whatever.

"Well I am," I say huffily. "And if George doesn't get back with the frickin' black stuff soon, I'll-"

"Do what, Bell?" George says from behind me, as he holds up the black can of sludge. "Got it."

"Alright," Fred gives George a high five. I mean, what's the point of _sneaking out_ Fred, if you're just going to go and _slap your palm against your brother's_ in the _middle _of the_ freaking common room_?

"Put some on me first," George commands, shoving the can at Fred.

"No, I'm the General," Fred argues. "I should get the black stuff first."

"I went and got it!"

"I organised it!"

I think all we ever do is argue. Maybe we should all just go and get a life. Yeah. I mean, seriously. We argue like two-year-olds… You know what? I've never actually come across a two-year-old who's argued with another two-year-old counterpart. Maybe it's just fifteen-and-a-half-year-olds. Well, technically I'm the only fifteen-and-a-half-year-old. Ange is almost sixteen, and so is Lee. And Gred and Forge are older than me, too. I forgot about Alicia's birthday, though. Wow. Next time I see her, I'll ask her when her birthday is.

"What's going on?" a voice through the darkness silences us, and for a moment I think that it's McGonagall. Well, that WOULD be terrible.

"Alicia?" George asks incredulously.

"Damn right," another voice says, crossly.

"Angelina?"

"Well," Fred begins, looking a little sheepish, "It was all Katie's idea!" he points to me.

I don't bother saying anything, just point lazily at Fred's 'GENERAL' hat. He didn't want to take it off.

"Fred. Explain," Ange tells him tersely, tapping her foot.

"Well," he says again, "we just thought it'd be fun to play a harmless little prank on the Hufflepuffs," he says meekly. Wow. I never thought I'd see the day that Fred Weasley would be meek in front of a girl- but I figure if I thought any girl could do it, it'd be Angelina Johnson.

"_Harmless_?" Angelina asks sceptically.

At the same time, Alicia yells, "those poor defenceless Hufflepuffs! It's not their fault they're talent-less, you know," she adds seriously, staring at me.

"Sure it is," I reply cheerfully. "If they had just decided to play sword-fighting instead of dress-ups when they were little, they probably could have got in to Gryffindor." And I was not just referring to Hannah Abbot. Personally, I think Cedric might still come out of the closet. But that's a secret.

"Dress-ups?" Fred repeats. "Bell… what the hell?"

"Look at that! You're a poet and you didn't even know it," I chant, ignoring him.

"Okay." Angelina takes charge of the situation, which is quickly falling apart. "What's with the black goo?"

"We're going to use it to smear all over our faces," I tell her.

"It helps unclog our pores," Lee says seriously, then grins and gives me a high five while I let out a bark of laughter. Classic.

"Okay. Katie, smear some all over George." She commands, pointing at him. Thanks for the reference, Ange. I've only known him for five years, (well, I think our brothers used to be in the same year, so maybe I met him before I went to Hogwarts) but I must've temporarily _forgotten what he looks like_.

I oblige, but I have to jump up and down a bit to succeed. I mean, him and Fred aren't as tall as Lee (about five feet ten) but shit, that's about eight inches taller than me. So I get a bit in his ear and eyes, but it's okay, seeing as how I get most of his face and all.

"Now Alicia."

Alicia is easier, because she's not as tall as they are. She's only about five feet six, so I don't have to strain my arm as much. I think I have one arm longer than the other, now. It'll impair me for the rest of my life! If I choose to be an Auror, and a Death Eater ties me up, I won't be able to get free because, hey, one arm is shorter than the other. Or if I want to be a Healer, the patients won't want someone with uneven arms bringing them back to life.

"Now Lee."

I look up at Lee, sigh, and stand onto the couch. Lee doesn't even help, because I have to yell at him to stand next to the couch, and he shakes with laughter the whole time I'm doing it, so I make pretty patterns on his face.

"Now Fred."

Even though he's the same height as George (I think he's like a millimetre shorter) I don't bother getting off the couch, but Fred doesn't come near enough and I fall off and end up with the paintbrush all through my hair. I wish I'd had the sense to tie it up under my beanie. Damn. I wonder if it'll wash out? I hope so. I mean, people will think I've turned all weird, because I'll have blonde hair and then these mangled black lines all over my head. But I manage to cover his face in the black goo, too.

"I'll do Bell," Lee offers gallantly, taking the paintbrush off me and smirking. As far as I can tell he doesn't do anything strange. At least, I hope he doesn't. If he does, I'll push him in the lake and he can go live with all the crazy merpeople, who swim around with pitchforks.

"What about you?" I ask Ange, when I've got the bucket back.

"I don't need it," she says, giving her hair a flick. "I'm dark enough without resorting to put black goo all over my face."

"Lee's dark," I point out. "You made him put on some."

Angelina glares at me, then says, "yeah, but I'm darker. Hurry up." She marches out of the common room, and the rest of us have to run to keep up. Well, at least I do. Because one of all their strides is two of mine.

"So, uh, where _are_ we going, anyway?" Anyone else would have looked like an idiot, but not Ange.

"Hufflepuff common room," I tell her.

"Right." She sets off purposely, then comes back when she realises we aren't following her. "Where _are_ they?"

Could you GET any thicker? Sheesh. "Second floor near those funny knight statues," I say. "You know, the ones that are hugging each other and they look like they're-"

"She knows which ones you mean, Katie," Alicia interrupts me.

I smirk at her. "Okay, I was just telling her how they're-"

"Bell!" she yells. "We know, okay?"

"Sure," I shrug. We march single file down the stairs, one behind the other. Angelina leads, then Fred (because he's too scared to take over), then George, Alicia, Lee and I bring up in the rear. Technically, I should be at the front. You know, so that all the others can see over my head if there's anyone coming. Besides, the little people are supposed to be the ones protected. How can they protect me if I'm last and some person jumps on me and carries me away, never to be seen again?

Yeah. Think about that next time you want to make me last in line, Ange.

"Drop!" I hear Angelina hiss suddenly, and we all drop to the ground. Well, I trip and fall against Lee, causing him to say a naughty word. But it's all good, because Professor Lupin passes by without even looking at us.

Professor Lupin's our Defence teacher. He's cool. Like, Fred asked him one time if we could bring in a subject, when we were learning about Dark curses. Lupin agreed, and the next time we had Defence Fred brought in Harry. I mean, Lupin made him leave and all practically as soon as Fred brought him in, but he was wicked nice about it. He just said, "I'm sure you can find someone more suitable to experiment on, rather than Mr Potter."

"That was close," I hear Alicia whisper with relief.

"Nah, he saw us," George replies nonchalantly.

"Did not," I argue. "He would have told us off."

Lee groans. "Shut up, both of you," he says to us. "Let's keep going."

"No!" Angelina shrieks. "I'm the leader, and I'll say when it's safe." She pauses a moment, then says, "it's safe."

I look at Lee and roll my eyes.

We're going down the stairs to the second floor when I suddenly trip over something- I think it's a rat- and fall head over heels into Lee- literally.

"What the hell?"

"Watch we're you're going, Bell!"

"Katie? Are you okay?"

"Get off the stairway!"

"Why are you in _front_ of me? Get back into line!"

When I finally get to the bottom, I look at up at the others and go, "ouch." I mean, I didn't even have anything original to say. Then again, I suppose when you've hit your head against stone a few hundred times you tend to be a bit brain-damaged. Like I wasn't enough already.

"Er, you okay?" Fred asks, nudging me with his foot. "You aren't dead, are you?"

"I'm breathing, Fred, but nah, I think I died," I reply sarcastically. Well, it wasn't as if I hadn't just fell down a bazillion stairs or anything. Sheesh.

"Okay," Fred says. "This ought to wake you up!" and with that he draws out his wand and pours water all over me.

"Augh!" I splutter at him. "Now I'm going to get sick and die and it's all _your fault_!" I turn to Ange. "Tell your boyfriend he's an arse!"

"Fred," Ange says calmly to him, "Katie says you're an arse."

I roll my eyes. Like he didn't just hear me! "Let's just keep going."

So we march off again, towards the common room. I'm not talking to anyone. Because they're all losers for dragging me along against my will in the first place!

"What's that funny squelching noise?" Alicia wants to know.

"That'd be me," I answer wearily. I'm tired and cold and I want back in my bed NOW!

She laughs at me in a very mean, non-supposedly-best-friend way. What a meanie-head.

"We're here," Fred announces.

Angelina glares at him, then says, "we're here!"

What a loser.

"Fred and Lee can go in the boys' dorm," Ange says, "Alicia and George can stay in the common room. Bell, you're with me."

"Oh, goodie," I mutter. "Lucky me."

Ange beams. "Yeah, I know. Now someone get into the common room!"

"Uh, I haven't thought this far ahead," Lee admits.

"I think it's something like bumblebee," George ventures.

Haha. The Hufflepuffs' password is bumblebee! How would you feel. Like a talent-less freak, probably.

"No," Alicia says. "Rainbow?"

Nothing we say makes the portrait of the funny little midget people open. Really, the painting looks a bit like the Gryffindor second years. Well, minus the whole red-and-gold bit.

"Yellow and black!" I yell triumphantly, and the portrait opens. I mean, how thick ARE they? Could you GET any stupider? I guess there's a reason the sorting hat says that 'all the rest belong in Hufflepuff'.

"What sort of people _are_ these people?" Alicia wonders softly.

I resist the urge to point out the obvious.

"Positions, people!" Angelina says, when we get into the hideous common room. I mean, it's mostly yellow with a touch of black. And I thought red and gold was bad. Imagine living in a black and yellow room. It's a wonder their mascot isn't a bumblebee.

"Which way is the girl's dorm?" I ask Ange, since she seems to know it all.

She shrugs. "I thought you knew."

We just do rock, paper, scissors with Fred and Lee and decide to take the right side.

Big mistake.

"Third year… fourth year… fifth year…" I count as we pass them. "Why don't we just do the actual team members, rather than the whole fifth year?" I wonder aloud.

"Because," Ange explains tersely, "we don't _know_ the Hufflepuff Quidditch team."

"Oh," I reply, so I don't sound like an idiot. I still think we should just go and pick on the team members. I mean, what's the point of only doing on our year?

"In here," Ange hisses. I follow her into the fifth year's dormitory, and guess what?

They aren't girls.

"Oh, eww!" she exclaims, at the sight of dirty clothes, spare bits of parchment and all other UFO's (Unidentified Foreign Objects) scattered on the ground.

"At least they don't have to go through the trouble of looking through their trunk for their stuff," I reply cheerfully. Hey, it sounded convenient. Actually, that would probably be what our dorm'd look like, if we didn't have Alicia. Stupid prude.

"Still," Ange says, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "this is feral."

"I like it," I decide. "It reminds me of my cousin's pig sties."

"Your cousin has pig sties?" Angelina asks, her eyebrows raised.

I shrug. "Sure," I reply. "They love bacon."

My remark is lost on Ange, who just goes, "uh huh," and keeps walking around the room.

"I found Cedric's bed!" I announce, looking down at him. And oh-my-god he has his thumb in his mouth. I always knew he secretly batted for the other team…

"Well? Attack him," Angelina tells me expectantly.

"Can do," I inform her, as I set down my 'weapons of mass destruction'.

"One can of magical-menagerie spray paint?"

"Check."

"Goggles?"

"Check."

"Stencils?"

"Check."

"One can of whipped cream?"

"Che- what?" I ask confusedly.

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I just thought I'd throw a really random question in," she replies. "Begin Operation-attack-the-Hufflepuffs-and-make-them-lose," she grins evilly.

"Mwahahahaha!" I laugh, trying to do an imitation of that evil dude off that show… yeah.

We get through Cedric and the others, but just as we're about to leave, he wakes up and looks sleepily around.

"Lay yourself flat against the wall," Angelina commands quietly.

"Can do," I reply, saluting her.

At least we're wearing clothes that blend in with their yellow walls. Well, apart from my army pants. And my jacket. If only they'd had a mural of a plain in Africa or something at the bottom of their wall. That'd be cool.

Suddenly, Cedric sits up straight in bed and stares directly at Angelina. "Mum?" he asks.

I burst out laughing; I mean, come on. How could _anyone_ not laugh at that?

"Katie? Angelina? What are you doing here?" Cedric asks.

I groan. "Ange, this is all your fault. You really should have let me put the black goo on your face."


	13. There's Nice And Then There's NICE

**A/N:** Hmm… it seems as though I forgot to add the author's note last chapter. Oh well. I didn't get very many reviews last chappie, but I guess you have to take what you can, hey? I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. I really appreciate it, guys!

I'm sorry about the late chapter. It wouldn't let me update the last few days for some reason...

Thanks to **shadow929**, **snuffles101**, **sarcastic spastic**, **Gene Kelly**, **IddamSoyt**, **scared-of-open-spaces**, **mat hadder **and **MotherCrumpet** for reviewing:D

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to snuffles101, for her swift message to check if I was okay when the cyclone hit Australia. You rock!

* * *

**November 19th**

"I'm so _tired_," I whine as I slump down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, in between Lee and Alicia.

"You're always tired," Lee replies cheerfully, drinking from his stupid yellow coffee cup.

"Lee… what the hell happened to your _face_?" I gasp in twisted horror as I look up to examine his face. It's painted black and there's wonky hearts all over it, as well as squiggles and funny things that vaguely resemble mutilated smiley faces.

"Thanks a lot," he retorts in mock-annoyance. Then he goes, "Bell! What the hell happened to _your_ face?"

Oh, shit. I look down at my shiny plate and see that my reflection is absolutely black. Except Lee's made it all polka-dotty, so it looks like I've had a mangled case of the measles. Well, except that the measles were white, and my skin was black. But whatever.

"You idiot!" I cry, hitting him on the arm. "I told you not to do anything funny!"

Several people have started smirking at us.

"Yeah, well you did mine first!" he says defensively.

"But _I_ told you not to!"

"But you still did it to me!"

"Yeah, but that's different!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Thankfully, George comes up behind us and plops himself down next to me. "What's up, people?" he asks.

Well, there's this minor little fact: I can't actually _tell_ that it's George. All I can see of him is his orange hair and eyes. Everything else is painted black.

"George… you've got black stuff in your ear, right there," Ange says from behind him, then gets a good look at his face. "What the _hell_ happened to you?"

"Bloody hell!" Ron says, as he comes up to the table and gets a good look at us. Yeah, look while you can, you little swearing-miniature-version-of-Fred-and-George!

"Ah!" Alicia screams when she sees her face in the plate. "What did you do?" she yells, rounding on me.

Personally, I think she has an unfair advantage. I mean, she's at least four inches taller than me. And she has bigger feet. I'm not sure what it's got to do with it, but you never know. It might help.

"Um," I say meekly as four angry people glare at me, "I didn't do it!" Which is a completely lame thing to say when they all saw you, but whatever.

Alicia stares at me.

"Okay, but I didn't get the paint," I concede. "That was Mr General over there." I point at Fred, who is STILL wearing his 'GENERAL' hat. Stupid hat. Stupid Fred.

"Hey, don't look at me," he says.

When we all keep staring at him, he relents. "Katie applied it."

"Yeah, but I didn't know it was going to stay _permanently_!"

"Neither did I!"

"Yes you did you stupid little creep!"

"Who are you calling little?"

I just raise my eyebrows at him.

"Oh." Fred looks sheepish. "Who are you calling stupid?"

Alicia begins to get mad. "Stop it," she says, pointing at me then Fred. "How do we get it off? The game's in a few hours!"

"Uh," Fred smirks, "you can't."

"What?" I shout, jumping up from my seat and knocking a tub of strawberry yogurt all over Lee in the process. "I was only kidding when I said it was permanent!"

"Ew," Ange mutters, scooting away from Lee. He smells sorta like a wet dog, now. A pink one, but still.

"So we have to play," I say slowly, "looking like that?" I point at George's goo covered face.

"Yep," Fred answers happily. "I guess so."

Just as I'm about to bash his head in, there's a sudden noise from the people nearest the door to the Great Hall. I turn, and see that Cedric's entered the room.

"Bogey at twelve 'o' clock," I murmur to Angelina.

Ange just looks at me all funny and goes, "what are you _on_?"

Cedric turns to look at us, and I gap in disappointment. Everything I did to him last night has gone! There's no gold and red miniature pom poms stuck to him, his head isn't red or gold… he looks completely normal. I mean, not that he's all that great looking without the works of art I did, but still.

"_Bell_!" Angelina bellows, and I have to dash out of the Great Hall as everyone laughs at me, and Connie Cretin takes numerous photos.

* * *

"This is it," Oliver announces just before we're about to go onto the pitch. "This is the Big One." 

I mean, he says it like if we don't win, he'll die or something. I mean, he probably will, 'cause he'll go drown himself, but whatever. He's the biggest loser I know. I demand a new one! Well, he's not that bad. I mean, it'd be way better if he had a personality transplant, but then again you don't know what he'd end up like. Maybe Cedric. Shudder.

"Ollie," Fred says, "you say that every time."

Oliver just looks at him and goes, "because it is, Weasley. Now put on your gloves!"

I mean, whoa. He's going to have a heart attack before he's a hundred, the way he's going. Sheesh.

"So, Harry," I say to him, "how are you feeling? Nervous? That's okay. When I was your age, I felt nervous too."

"Bell," Angelina says, rolling her eyes at me, "Harry's been on the team almost as long as you."

"Has not!" I retort. I count on my fingers. "One… two… three… this is my fourth year! And it's only Harry's… when did you get on the team?" I ask. I mean, it just feels like he's always been on it.

"First year," Harry replies, looking a little nervous. I mean, the wind's like howling outside, and I think a few pot plants have crashed into the door, but whatever.

"So… one… what year are you?"

"Third," Harry sighs, still staring at the huge door.

"Right. One… two…" I begin.

"This is his third year!" Alicia shrieks. "How can you not know that?"

Whoa. Down, girl. Just because you are some number genius doesn't mean we all are. Sheesh.

"Fine," I reply grumpily. "But I'm still older than him."

"Yeah," Alicia agrees, looking at me all weird. "That's 'cause you're two years ahead of him."

Well. That did not make _any_ sense whatsoever.

"Hang on," I say. "I'm…"

"Fifteen," Alicia replies, looking bored. She and George have started talking about something or other. Wow. She can have two conversations at once! Wicked.

"And Harry's…"

"Thirteen," she says, still not looking at me.

Hang on. How can she know that? I mean, it's alright for her to know my age, seeing as how we're best friends and all. But she shouldn't know Harry's. Unless… "Are you _stalking_ him? Oh my god, Harry. Are you okay? Has she done anything to you? How do you feel? Come on. You know you can talk to me, right?" I put an arm around his shoulder. "Come on," I say in what I consider to be a gentle tone, "speak up."

Harry moves away from my arm. "No," he says, "I'm fine. Really," he adds, when he sees me looking at him doubtfully.

"I am _not_ stalking Harry!" Alicia yells, when she realises what I accused her of. Wow. Guess she can't hold two conversations at once, then. I take back everything complimentary I said about her.

"Well, how was _I_ supposed to know?" I retort defensively. "After all, you knew how old he was. And that's grounds for suspicion, I believe."

"Because _everyone_ in third year is thirteen!" she shouts. "I was, you were, Oliver was!"

"Do you think we should do a down-and-out play?" Oliver asks nobody in particular, unaware he is part of the argument. "Or stick to the triple-tuck-and-roll?"

"Hang on…" I say slowly. "When _is_ your birthday?"

She sighs exaggeratedly. "You don't know?" when I don't answer, she narrows her eyes at me and says, "ask anybody in this room."

"Okay," I reply, feeling a little bad that she's so mad at me. I mean, how am I supposed to remember her birthday? By writing it on a calendar? I don't think so. "Ollie," I say, sidling up to him, "when's Alicia's birthday?"

"Huh?" he looks up at me blankly. "How am I supposed to know?"

I smirk triumphantly at 'Lic.

"I meant," she says, "Fred or George or Ange."

"What about Harry?"

"Harry, do you know my birthday?" Alicia asks him kindly. I mean, I don't see why she can't be as kind with me as she is with him. Just because he's two years younger… well, I'm the shortest! Doesn't that count for some something?

"Sure," he replies, shrugging. "August twentieth, right?"

"No," she says, looking crestfallen. "Fred, do you know it?"

"Er… march third?" he guesses.

"Ange?"

"May twenty-sixth," Ange replies confidently.

"That's Katie's birthday!" Alicia exclaims. "George?"

It is all up to George. I can see the sweat beading on his forehead. He gulps, and looks at every team member for help, but no one responds. He is on his own. "June fourth?"

"No!" Alicia yells, but at the same time, the doors open and we got a full look at what we'll be playing in. Sunshine and rainbows.

No, just kidding. Absolute storms. And cyclones. In fact, I can see one just beyond the Quidditch pitch, in the lake…

"And it's the Gryffindor team!" I can barely hear Lee shouting. "Wood… Weasley… Weasley… Spinnet… Johnson… Bell and Potter!"

Yay. I'm announced. I steal a glance over at Alicia, who is determinedly not looking at any of us.

Oliver has to shake hands with Cedric. In that way, I do not envy him the task of being captain. I mean, who _knows_ where those hands have been?

I'm practically being knocked over by the wind, and so is Harry. It's dark and cold, and it's times like this I hate my brothers for teaching me how to play Quidditch. I mean, if I sucked I never would have gotten onto the team. And then I wouldn't have had thirty-three broken bones and about two months in the Hospital Wing, all up. It's good though, 'cause one time I got off Potions exams. But then Alicia brought them up for me. Stupid, stupid Alicia.

"I want a nice, fair game," Madame Hooch says, like she does every game. Nah, she wants to see us all hex each other off our broomsticks! Yeah. That'd be so cool. Take that, Montague! How much fun would it be to just hex every one off their brooms?

Probably more than I should admit.

She blows her whistle, and the game is off!

I rise up in the air. Angelina has the Quaffle, but I can't see her.

"Catch!" someone screams, and I turn around with my arms outstretched just in time, because the Quaffle is hurtling towards me at like a hundred miles an hour. Sheesh that woman can throw.

I catch it and move down towards the goal end, having to dodge Aaron Abbot. Stupid wanker. If he knocks the Quaffle out of my hands I'll go next door and tell his mother. She'll put him straight. Mrs Abbot is scary; practically all the noise in our neighbourhood is from that house, with Mrs Abbot yelling at her children, because she's gone deaf in one ear from a potions accident and doesn't know how loud she talks.

Just in front of me is a stupid yellow person, but I see a flash of red and hurl the Quaffle in that direction. It's Alicia, and she catches it and gets a goal.

Yippee! We're winning, we're winning, we're winning! We so need a cheerleading team. Then they can be all, "Hufflepuff looks like pygmy puffs!" I mean, I don't actually know what pygmy puffs are, but they sound just like the Hufflepuff people.

Oh, damn. The Hufflepuff dude- what's her name, Dana, I think. Aaron's got a crush on her. Anyway. She stole the ball from Angelina!

Great. Now I actually have to _move_. I can't even really see, thanks to the not-insignificant sized lumps of ice that are pelting down. I hope one lands on one of the Hufflepuff people's heads. Haha. That would be funny.

Oh. There goes Connie Cretin's umbrella. I just hope it doesn't hit Harry. I mean, it wouldn't be all bad if it hit Cedric… no, just kidding. I'm not that cruel. Really.

I fly up next to Aaron Abbot and knock the Quaffle out off his hands, hoping that Ange or 'Lic are below to pick it up.

No such luck, because the other Hufflepuff dude- Norbody, I think- steals it. Then he drops it. Then, after catching it and dropping it yet again, Alicia catches it.

"Over here!" I shriek as loudly as possible, which unfortunately for me is very loud, because all three of the Hufflepuff people fly over to me, leaving Ange available.

Why do I always get the idiots?

"So," I say to the nearest one to me, Norbody. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

The poor guy just stares at me wordlessly.

"BELL! STOP FRATERNISING WITH THE ENEMY!" Oliver screams from his goalkeeper position.

Sheesh. No need to yell, Ollie. I am on the same pitch as you, you know.

Angelina gets a goal, too. I feel so sad. I'm like the little behind-the-scenes person. You know, set up a goal then give the Quaffle to someone else. I am such a non-Quaffle-hogger. And that didn't even make sense.

At least the idiots all go away and chase the quaffle, except for Norbody. He's still staring at me. I hope Lee doesn't notice and embarrass the poor guy.

"AND IT APPEARS THAT NORBODY HAS BEEN DUMB-STRUCK BY THE EVER SO RAVISHING KATIE BELL! NOT THAT HE WASN'T DUMB ANYWAY-" Lee's cut off by McGonagall attempting to wrestle the microphone away from him.

Too late.

Norbody blushes and goes down towards Oliver.

"Bell!" Angelina screams. I mean, what is with all the screaming, people? I'm not deaf or anything.

"Yeah?" I yell back.

"Quaffle!"

Oh, right. The funny ball shaped thing that I'm supposed to playing with. Yeah. I gear myself up then sort of cut in front of the Hufflepuff person, who tries to block me but then I take the Quaffle out of her hands. Score one for Katie!

I fly down to the goal area, and look for someone to pass it to so they can shoot a goal. But Ange is up the other end, and I can't even see Alicia. So I shoot.

And get it in! "Yippee!" I scream. I got a goal! I mean, it's not like I've never gotten a goal before. But it's the first goal for me as a fifth year. Besides practice.

We get a few more goals after that (I get two) and so we're in the lead. Now, if only Harry can hurry up and get the damn snitch…

It's getting colder. It's real weird, too, and I go up to Angelina, who's shivering. "It's cold, right?" I ask, wanting to make sure. I mean, she could have been having a seizure or something.

"Yeah," she mutters.

"Look at the sky," I say, craning my neck to look up at the purplish-blue sky.

"What?" she says, looking at me.

I shrug. "Looks like rain."

"Katie," she begins, "this isn't normal cold."

"It isn't? News to me," I reply with forced cheerfulness. I mean, if I don't keep the situation light-hearted, who will? Exactly.

She rolls her eyes. "Quaffle!"

Poor 'Lic. We left her all alone up at the end with only those three der-brains for company.

Ange manages to block Aaron Abbot, and I steal the Quaffle from him, and go down the other end to shoot.

"Here!" Alicia screams.

Just as I'm about to throw it to her, something red catches my eye and I look over my shoulder to see someone falling out of the sky.

Not just any someone. Harry.

"Harry!" Alicia yells. We all watch him plummet down towards the ground, until suddenly he slows, but still lands with a huge _thump_ on the ground.

"Oh my god," I say, landing on the pitch and running to him. Fred, George, Ange and Alicia have done the same thing.

Dumbledore comes up and conjures a stretcher, and leads him away, along with some other teachers.

"What the hell happened?" George asks, looking up at the sky.

I can barely see Cedric flying down at the far side of the pitch, and all his team mates run towards him, yelling and cheering.

So we lost. I mean, I can't say I'm not disappointed, or anything. All those ice-blocks for nothing. But then again, a team mate (and saviour of the world, etc) is lying in the Hospital Wing, possibly injured. Or dead. Or worse.

Cedric comes up towards us; we're all just huddled in the middle of the Quidditch pitch in the pouring rain. Not that that's abnormal or anything…

"Hi," he says, looking worried. "Is Harry okay? I mean, up there, in the sky…" he cuts off, gesturing to the sky. Cedric, we're not dumb. We DO know where the sky is. Sheesh.

"What happened?" Fred asks, looking unusually serious.

"Oh," Cedric replies. "I… I don't really know," he says. "I mean, one moment Harry and I were racing for the snitch, and then he just… fell. But then I saw them."

"Saw what?" I ask curiously.

"The dementors," Cedric announces, to sudden gasps of '_oh!_' The Hufflepuff team are standing around us.

"Well," I say. "At least we know why he fell off."

"Why?" Fred asks me.

I roll my eyes at him. "'Cause of the cold," I reply matter-of-factly. "Duh."

It's Ange's turn to roll her eyes. "Katie," she tells me, "not everyone is as sensitive as you."

"I guess we should go visit him," George says slowly.

"Don't look so eager about it, George," I say sarcastically to him as we walk away from the Hufflepuffs.

Just as we're about to walk into the castle, Cedric runs up behind us. "I think we should have a rematch," he says surprisingly.

Well. That was unexpected. I figured he was just going to make us say 'hi' to Harry from him.

"What?" Alicia and I ask at the same time.

Cedric shrugs. "I just think I had an unfair advantage," he says. "After all, I only caught the snitch once Harry fell off. Otherwise, I'm sure he would have won."

Seeing as how Oliver is nowhere to be seen, Ange thinks about this. She's like our unofficial substitute captain. Basically meaning she's so bossy that we let her take charge. "Well," she says thoughtfully, "if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Cedric says immediately.

I mean, how dumb is this guy? He's WAY too nice for his own good. Technically, everyone in his entire house should hate him for being nice. He's willing to give away his win, just because the other guy fell off his broom. I mean, there's nice and there's NICE. Cedric has just crossed the line.

"Okay then," Ange says, and when she turns away I see her grinning.

"By the way," he says as we turn again to leave, "my team wants to know where you got your face paints. They want them, too."

Ange groans softly and glares at me, as everyone else cracks us laughing.

"I'll be happy to give you some, Cedric," I say happily. "After all, it's of no use to us!" I leave him to wonder what meant and we go see Harry at the Hospital Wing.

* * *

When we get there, he's already woken up, with Hermione and Ron by his side. 

"Heeeeeeey," I say cheerfully when we get in the room. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh yeah, Katie," Fred says, "he's feeling just great. He only fell fifty feet."

I poke my tongue out at him. "Whatever."

"So," George says to him, "what happened?"

"Cedric already told us," Alicia interrupts hastily, "you don't have to tell us."

"Yes he does," Angelina says, glaring at her.

"Oh," Harry says, and even I can tell he doesn't look too hot. And I'm like, the world's most oblivious person when it comes to feelings.

"Forget it," I tell him. "You can tell us another time."

Harry looks relieved. "Thanks," he says.

"Hey! What falls fifty feet and then lands on the ground?" Fred asks.

"What?" Alicia says suspiciously.

"Harry Potter!" Fred replies, then falls about laughing.

"Bloody idiots," Ron says, referring to Fred and George who are laughing at Fred's lame joke.

Personally, I think he should win the gold medal for best joke. It was just _that_ funny. Either that or the tin can.

Then Lee bursts in. "Hey hey!" he yells, like he's some minister of magic or something. On second thoughts, the minister for magic wouldn't act like that. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, Lee," I say sarcastically, "absolutely nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

Hmm. So... liked the chapter? Absolutely hated it? Lol. Please review! 


	14. Even BETTER Than Morphine

**A/N:** Hey, guys! I'm really sorry that I haven't updated for a while. I don't even know what my excuse is. Oh. I just came back from camp a few days ago. But anyway. You know. Been busy, etc.

And I really haven't been getting very many reviews. Not even a quarter of you are reviewing. Come on, guys. I need to know how I can improve and what you do or don't like about the story. If you really don't want to write a long review, you don't have to. Just _please_ review! Even ideas about what you do or don't want to happen. Anything.

Thanks to my reviewers who actually did review: **shadow929**, **HannahMarieWillow**, **shayacatalystscifigirl**, **snuffles101**, **Siti**, **IddamSoyt**, **Book Anaconda in the Rain**, **sarcastic spastic** and **scared-of-open-spaces**.

* * *

**November 25th**

"He can't be serious about this. He can't be doing this to us!"

I grin at Alicia's dramatics. And they say _I'm_ melodramatic. Sheesh. "It'll be okay, 'Lic," I say soothingly. "It's just a little thing that's supposed to be fun."

"Fun? Fun? This will give me a nervous breakdown!"

Okaaaaaaay then.

"Shut up," Fred tells her from his spot on the couch. "You're such a stress-head."

Whoa. Harsh, Fred. Real harsh.

"No," Alicia snaps back. "I'm not cut out for this. I don't think I can cope!"

"George," I say calmly, "take your girlfriend and go and calm her down."

"Why can't you?" he whines, glancing at her nervously. She's pacing the room and muttering things under her breath.

"Because," I roll my eyes, "she's _your_ girlfriend."

"Technically she's your girlfriend too."

"What are you insinuating Georgie boy?" I ask, trying to sound all smart.

"Uh… nothing." He gives me a strange look then takes Alicia by the elbow and leads her up to his dorm.

"And leave the door open!" I scream up after him. After all, he's only supposed to be _calming_ her.

So do you want to know why Alicia Spinnet is stressing out? I mean, it's not like she NEVER does it or anything.

Okay. Here's what happened:

The six of us (meaning me, Lee, 'Lic, Ange, Fred and George) go down to the Great Hall. Dumbledore's called a meeting for all fifth years. We get in just in time to hear his marvellous little speech. (Haha. I used the word 'marvellous'.)

_Dumbledore:_ Welcome. I am pleased to see that you have all arrived on time. (He looks directly at us). I have made an important change to the fifth year's curriculum. This year, each of you will be undertaking a sort of business, of sorts. Yes, that means you, Mr Weasley. And you, Mr Weasley. It will count for your transfiguration, potions and charms grades.

_Me:_ So we really _will_ need potions when we get out of school then?

_Fred:_ As if. Snape just wants to torture us.

_Alicia: _I think I'm going to hyperventilate!

_Dumbledore:_ Silence! This task it meant to test your intuitive skills, as well as to determine your ability to handle yourself in unexpected situations. Now, we will be trialing it for this year only, and if all goes well we may introduce it for all future fifth years. You will need to think of something relating to possible career aspects, and you may partner up with another if you wish. Yes, Miss McNamara, you may go with a student from another house.

_Stormie:_ (Looks longingly at Cedric, who determinedly avoids her gaze.)

_Dumbledore:_ Now, if you will all just sign up for your particular interest… (Holds up long, LONG sheet of paper) … that's it. Hurry up, now.

_Me: _Come on, Lee. Let's go sign up for something.

_Lee:_ What makes you think that I'd want to even go with you? I might have someone else in mind.

_Me:_ (Pushes Lee hard) No you don't. Now get up there and sign that bit of parchment! _Or else_.

_Lee:_ Ouch!

Then we go up and look at the long bit of parchment. It's pretty boring, really. And we're like last in line, too.

So guess what? There's no good ones left. In fact there's only a) Greenhouse Helpers b) Dungeon Cleaners or c) Pet Minders

Yeah. And guess what Fred and Ange got? _Forbidden Forest Walkers_. Meaning, they get to take rich wizards who have come from God-knows-where just to see our stupid bit of dark smelly forest _into_ the forest. A bit like tourist guides, I suppose.

And 'Lic and George? Yeah, they weren't as lucky. I guess they were too busy arguing, or something. They get to go in the little row boats and try to find rare ingredients for Snape on those little midget islands in the middle of the lake.

_Lee:_ Which one, do you reckon?

_Me:_ I don't know. It's all your fault. If we got here earlier, then we wouldn't be stuck with these lame ones.

_Lee:_ Nuh uh!

_Me:_ Yeah huh!

_Lee:_ No way.

_Me:_ Yes way.

_Lee:_ No wa- shit!

It turns out that Fred got tired of our arguing and decided to sign us up for something. For _Pet Minders_. Meaning that I'm going to have to chase that dude's frog round all day. Nerville. I dunno.

_Me:_ Fred! What the _hell_ did you do that for?

_Fred:_ (Grins wickedly) I felt like it.

_George:_ So. Pet minder, hey Lee? Yeah. You look like the type.

_Lee:_ (Highly offended) And you look the type to go around in a row boat all day!

_Me:_ (Rolling eyes) Shut up. Frederick Weasley, I am _never_ talking to you again!

_Fred:_ Yippee!

_Me:_ EVER.

_Fred:_ Awesome!

_Me:_ Did you just say 'awesome'?

_Fred:_ Yeah. So what? By the way, you're talking to me.

_Me:_ I am not.

So that was how Lee and me got roped into being pet minders, of all things. But then today we're about to start. And that's why 'Lic is stressing out so much. I think she reckons she'll fall in the lake or something and ruin her nails.

Okay, okay. So she's a Quidditch player. She ruins her nails every day, practically.

The bell goes, and I give Ange a weary glance as she leaves to go and show all the rich scary wizards around the scary forest. (It's actually the _best_ fun. Me and George and Fred set up a scamming thing like at the end of third year, and we charged people from Hogsmeade to go and look at 'Unicorns' and 'Centaurs' and stuff like that. They were damn good illusion charms if I say so myself, especially since we forced some random seventh year to do it for us, and in exchange Fred and George promised him he could have a free year's supply of joke items when they were famous.)

"Is this the Pet Minders Centre?" A high pitched voice asks behind me.

"Yeah," I reply without looking at them.

"Hey! I know you! You're that girl who screamed really loud in the hospital wing!" they say excitedly.

Beside me, Lee starts snickering.

"I think you're mistaken, young lady," I reply in the most dignified tone I can muster.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy!"

"Thatta girl. Never give up," I say reassuringly.

"I'm a boy!" the she-man wails.

"Uh huh. You just keep telling yourself that, buddy."

"I'm a boy!"

"Katie," Lee whispers, still snorting, "I think it's telling the truth."

"Aha! You called it an 'it'. That means you don't know."

"I most certainly did not call it an it," Lee says indignantly. He peers up at the she-man. "Are you sure?"

"Sure what?"

"Sure that you're a boy?"

The she-man starts gulping. Any second now, it will start to cry. "Y- yes."

"What is going on here?" a pompous arse by the name of Percy demands. The she-man runs into his arms and starts sobbing hysterically. The look on Percy's face is priceless. A mix between horror and disgust. He holds it at arm's length. "Well, you, uh, you better run along now," he says unconvincingly. "Er, you better go to class."

"But I wanted to leave Shimmy Kibble with the Pet Minders!"

Um. What. The. Hell? _Shimmy Kibble_?

"Shimmy Kibble?" Percy repeats sceptically.

"Yeah! My kitty kitty cat!"

… Can you see why we can't tell what it is yet?

"Oh. Well you leave Shimmy Kibble with Miss Bell and Mr Jordan, and I'm sure they'll take good care of him." The prick is saying this with a straight face. Either he really doesn't find it funny or he's a damn good actor. I'm thinking the former.

"Yes," Lee says in between fits of laughter. Seriously. He's practically _crying_. "We'll take good care of Shimmy Kimmy."

"Shimmy _Kibble_!"

"Yeah. That."

The she-man beams suddenly at us, the tear-works have stopped. "I'll just go get him."

Lee is practically rolling on the couch with laughter, and even I'm cracking up. Percy, however, looks cross.

"I'm going to be late for potions," he says, frowning at us. "I do wish you could keep your charges on a leash."

"Okaaaaaaay then," I say slowly. Then I lean forward conspiringly. "What do you reckon it is, Percy?"

"What is?"

"You know. The kid." I point up at the stairs.

He looks confused. "Isn't it a girl?"

Lee lets out another annoying bark of laughter. "No!"

"Yes it is," I tell him. "I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, and it's in denial," Lee says sarcastically. "I am so sure."

"Exactly." I nod seriously.

"You are so dumb, Bell."

"Am not, Jordan!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Children." Percy breaks in, looking distinctly annoyed. "Miss… I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name?"

'It' looks up at Percy, lips quivering. "Dennis. Dennis Creevy."

What sort of a parent calls their kid _Dennis_? Especially for a _girl_! And what's with the last name? Sounds a bit like that Connie Cretin dude, to be honest. Looks a bit like him, too.

"Well, Denny," I say cheerfully. "We'll take good care of Sausage Kebab. Won't we, Lee?"

"Yeah." Lee nods solemnly. "We'll even let her eat a rat!"

"Oh no. It's a boy," Denny explains seriously. "Shimmy Kibble gets sad if someone calls him a girl."

Oh. My. God. This is one _strange_ kid. The parents shouldn't have even let it out in public! It should be an offence. You know. '_A fine of 100 galleons is to be paid for the release of gender-confused wizarding children upon the general public (the wizarding and muggle communities alike). The capture of these so called 'confused beings' will result in a haircut and a bit of grooming to ensure that they do, in fact, look like their original gender. Or the one that they prefer._'

Yeah. How cool would that be? Kids everywhere would wake up and go, "I feel like becoming a guy today. Mum! I want a haircut!" It would save a lot of trouble trying to find public toilets, let me tell you.

"Yes," Percy says, still not cracking a smile. "Run along now, and your- _blimey_! What _is_ that thing?"

The thing in question. Well. It is one MONSTROUS feline. Nails about three inches long, spitting enough to fill the prefect's bath in one go and with teeth like my great aunt Hilda.

This is one scary cat. In fact, it's almost as big as I am. I can just see it calculating my height in it's little brain, seeing whether or not it could jump me and bite my neck off before anyone can stop it. I'm willing to bet that it can.

That's another thing. What's with all the freaking huge cats around this place? I mean, yeah, I'm slightly scared of them, so most cats look huge to me. But this is like a radio-active power plant that's gone wrong. These things are GIANTS.

Maybe Hogwarts people were like, "Hey! Let's see how many five feet cats we can get in the place! That'll liven things up!"

Anyway. Back to the problem at hand. Sausage Kebab.

"Just why," Lee wants to know, "did you call that thing Shimmy Kimmy?"

"Shimmy _Kibble_!" the kid whines. "I thought it suited him."

Oh god, no. This kid is not funny any more. Now it's just like, annoying. It's little whiny voice makes me want to knock it out cold so I don't have to listen to it. Then again, the furry monster in its arms would probably savage me if I did anything to its precious owner.

Percy starts herding Denny out of the room.

"He likes two bowls of munchies every half hour!" Denny called out after us, straining his voice. I seriously hope his voice hasn't broken already. Can you imagine walking around with a voice like that for the rest of your life? Like a cross between a broken violin and nails on a chalkboard. "And he loves being cuddled! And sitting on your head!"

No way am I letting that thing anywhere NEAR my head.

Lee and me sit in a sort of stunned silence for awhile, just staring at the monstrosity that is Sausage Kebab. I really don't think I've ever seen anything quite like I in my entire life. It sort of resembles Mrs Crevasse next door, but even uglier. And taller.

"Well," Lee says finally. "At least we have something to talk about."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" I ask incredulously. "Fred and Ange get to lead old fuddy duddies around the scary forest that's filled with escaped convicts, 'Lic and George get to row little boats around the lake to strange midget islands and all we get to do is look after a freaking cat!"

"And Trevor. The toad."

"And Trevor," I agree.

Seriously. You'd think that our fellow Gryffindors don't trust us or something! Sheesh. A frog and a cat.

"I know," I say. "Let's take them on a little outing."

"To where, though?"

I shrug. I haven't thought that far.

"Why don't we take them to the kitchens?" Lee suggests.

I can swear Sausage Kebab perks up at the mention of 'kitchens'. I think Denny has been taking him along to late-night snacks or something.

"Alright." It's not like we have anything better to do.

But then Lee picks up Trevor, leaving me staring at the cat.

"Well?" he smirks at me. "Hurry up."

I eye the cat. I feel like the duellers from a hundred years ago, where they circle around each other and then suddenly _bam_! One of them falls to the ground and it's all over.

That's how I feel when the cat leaps for my head.

One moment it's sitting there, eyeing me, and then the next it's attacking the pom poms on my hair elastic and going spastic.

"Get it off me! Get it off me!" I scream as loudly as possible. Which for me, practically means the entire castle can hear it.

Lee drops Trevor and then almost steps on him as he picks up the closest thing to him- which, I might add, is Hermione's big book- and moves to wack the cat with it.

"No!" I yell. "Please no!"

After all, there's a _reason_ he didn't get on the Quidditch team.

"I'm not touching it!" he shouts back.

And that poses a bit of a problem. I'm freaking out so much that if Lee does try and hit the cat with the book, he'll most likely get my head even though the cat weighs about fifty pounds. And to top it all off, while we're busy arguing about how he should knock the damn thing out, it's busy clawing my head and chewing my pom poms.

"YOU HAVE TO!"

"NO!"

"GET THE DAMN BLOODY CAT OFF MY DAMN HEAD!"

"Okay." And with that, Lee braces himself, turns one hundred and eighty degrees around and swings the book above my head with all his might.

Do you remember how I said there was a reason that Lee didn't get on the Quidditch team? Yeah, well, it was a good one.

Lee gets the cat off my head, alright- but in doing so, swings the corner of the book into my scalp.

And it's the hardback edition.

Damn Hermione.

Why can't she get her bloody books soft?

Anyway. It hurt. A lot.

"Lee! You idiot! Can't you do anything right?"

"Um. Sorry?" he offers. At least he looks guilty.

"OUCH!"

This one time when I went to muggle school, I fell off the roof. (I was trying to prove to the kids that I could, in fact, fly.) Anyway, the school people called the muggle healers and they gave me this drug. Morphine. I still remember because it was like taking a cheering drought. I blurted out all these things that I really probably shouldn't have, and to cut a long story short the Oblivion people at the Ministry had to be called out.

The point is, I really want some.

"I think we should go to Pomfry," Lee says at last.

Yeah, good one genius! Rule number one when you hit your girlfriend on the head with a gigantic book: take her to the hospital wing before she passes out.

So Lee slings one of my arms around his shoulders, right, but because he's so much taller it doesn't really work. It's more like he's carrying me.

And then he staggers out of the common room (and I can't actually touch the ground). But when we get to the top of the stairs, my toe must touch the ground or something because he trips.

But the stupid idiot doesn't let go of me. Oh, no. Instead we just fall down flight after flight. And it's just our luck that all the stairs 'miraculously' change, so the stairs we go down are consecutive. We don't even have to wait for the next ones.

By this time, I'm so out of it, it's not funny. I'm babbling things that are so irrelevant it's just SCARY.

"… I don't want to… no… I don't _want_ to eat green eggs and ham…"

Can you see what I mean?

Lee is being really sweet (well, for him) and is being all concerned and trying to be all macho. You know. "We're almost there, Katie. It'll be okay. You'll be better in no time. I'm really sorry, Bell." That kind of stuff.

And then we get to the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfry doesn't even hurry. She sort of just saunters over, then she's all, "back again, I see? And Mr Jordan is with you, too. What's wrong? Oh? Yes, it does look nasty… Just a little dose of this…"

Guess what? The stuff she gives me? Yeah, it's even _better_ than morphine. It makes me practically comatose.

Which is the only reason I can explain what I say next.

"Lee… I hate you. Let's break up."

* * *

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Actually, I've been really stuck this chapter. I think I've rewritten it three times and I STILL don't like it. Oh well. If you would be so kind as to push the little blue button on the way out... ;D 


	15. Talking About Green Eggs And HAM

**A/N:** Happy Easter! Or… whatever it is you celebrate. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it made me every happy. :D But we didn't even reach 140… :( Lol. I've decided that I'm going to start trying to update twice a week. But only if I get about ten reviews a chapter. Does that sound fair? No, not really… Oh well.

So this is the last chapter for November. (Haha bet you didn't think I'd get this far, did you? Well, I didn't!)

The awesome people who actually decided to review the last chapter were: **snuffles101**, **shadow929**, **IddamSoyt**, **sarcastic spastic**, **scared-of-open-spaces**, **ShayaCatalyst** and **:D**

* * *

**November 30th**

"Ouch."

"Katie. Come on, Katie. You have to get up."

"I think _not_."

"Yeah. You really want to spend the whole day with her moaning and groaning and banging her head on the table?"

"Ange, she's _upset_. What do you want her to do, go around laughing hysterically?"

I love my friends. They're just so… _sarcastic_.

"Preferably."

"Go 'ay," I mumble into my pillow. "Ge' ready fo' class…"

"No," Alicia says firmly. "Katie, you've got to get up. Honestly, I don't think even Trelawney thinks you're sick any more. You've been away for three days! Not to mention the fact that you stayed in bed the entire weekend."

"I got up to go to the loo," I remind her huffily. "I'm not completely lethargic."

Angelina sighs exaggeratedly. "Bell, come on. You haven't even _seen_ Lee…"

"… He might not even be mad…"

"… He probably knows it was that potion…"

"… He is mad, though…"

"… He doesn't know it was the potion, either…"

See how _encouraging_ they are? They just lift my spirits sky high.

"He hates me." I state flatly. "I was _drugged_! I was even talking about green eggs and _ham_, for god's sake."

"Yeah, that is sad," Alicia remarks.

Angelina gives us both a strange look, on account of how she's such a loser she's never even heard of the book. "Whatever. And I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

"I _told_ him that I hated him!" I wail. "I don't, really."

"Of course you don't," Alicia says soothingly. Come to think of it, that's how she talks to George when he's all mad about something. Am I really that desperate that I seem like a Weasley twin?

"Hang on." I sit up suddenly. Or as suddenly as someone who has spent the past three days doing absolutely nothing can. "Why didn't _you_ tell him it was all that stupid potion's fault?"

"Yeah, because that makes sense, Katie," Ange says sarcastically. "Besides. We tried. He didn't listen to us, though. Seemed to think that we were doing your 'dirty work'. I told him you weren't smart enough to come up with a conspiracy like that."

Righto then. Because that's normal.

"Look, Katie. Just talk to him, okay?"

"No." I flop back down on my bed. You know, I really feel sorry for this bed. It's taken more than it's fair share of knocks during the entire time I've had it. Like, using it as a trampoline, putting almost everything on it that one time we had to try and find Jessica Wentworth's mouse… did I mention jumping on it?

"Katie. You are getting out of this bed whether you like it or not." Alicia yells, brandishing her wand at my face.

Whoa. Scary, 'Lic.

"What if I don't want to?" I ask, in exactly the same tone three-year-olds use when their mothers ask them to 'get-out-of-the-lolly-shop-now-or-so-help-them-God'.

"That's it!" Alicia cries. "I can't take it any more!" Then she uses this weird spell I've never even _heard_ of. It sort of petrifies me, but I can still move my head.

"_Scourgify_!"

Well. I guess that takes care of today's shower, then. It'll be interesting to see how they're going to make me dress.

"Hey! That's violating my constitutional right to privacy!" I scream at them.

Haha. All they _really_ did was chuck some 'cleanish' robes over my pyjamas. Which in my case consist of a pair of tracksuit pants and a really old t-shirt. _Way_ old. It's got the Beatles on it, before everyone got over them and they decided to go Muggle.

I wonder if the Weird Sisters will go Muggle?

"There," Alicia says, looking vaguely satisfied. "And don't worry. No one will be able to tell that you're wearing pjs. They look just like your normal clothes!"

Hmm. "Is that a thinly veiled insult?" I ask her. "Because if it is, I demand-"

"Shut up," Angelina says. "We're going to be late for breakfast now. Thanks a lot, Bell."

Well. Just because _she_ eats like a hippogriff.

"And I heard that!" Ange calls over her shoulder as she leaves the room, no doubt to go and snog Frederick.

Huh. I wish I had a snogging buddy.

"Katie, don't cry," Alicia says, somewhat desperately.

"I… can't… help… it!" I say.

And, you know, I'm really upset. Honestly. But when it occurs to me that I might just be acting like Stormie McNamara, I stop crying hysterically.

Because really, who wants to act like _her_?

Not me.

"Do you want to go downstairs now?" Alicia asks gently, as soon as I'm over my coughing/crying/blowing-my-nose fit.

I shrug. "S'pose."

Alicia has to lead me down the stairs, because when I cry, my eyes get all red. And swollen. And puffy. So I'm going down the stairs with red, swollen, puffy eyes and I can't even see where I'm going.

"Ange! Help me!" Alicia hisses to her. Hey, I might be blind, but I'm not deaf, buddy.

I push 'Lic away. "I can't do this myself," I snap. I take a hasty step forward, and guess what?

It turns out we hadn't even gotten off the staircase.

So I fall down the last- I'm guessing about ten, but it might be eleven- steps, and it really hurts, and then someone catches me.

No prizes for guessing who.

"Why are you crying?" Lee asks. He's trying to make it sound like he doesn't care or anything. But I know _better_. Haha.

I sniff pathetically. "Because." Yeah, great going, Katie. God, I'm such an intellectual.

"Okay then…" Lee says slowly.

"You can put me down now," I tell him. After all, it's bad enough that I can't see where I'm going. But not being able to see where you're going when you're in Lee's arms is just plain _dangerous_.

"Oh. Sorry," he says quickly, practically dropping me so that I land _smack!_ On my feet, and practically break my foot, not to mention the floor.

I sniff again.

The tension is really thick. Fred and Angelina are nowhere to be seen, and Alicia and George are shifting uncomfortably.

"Well," George says finally, "I'm hungry. Would you care to join me 'Lic?"

"Uh," she replies, sending an I'm-really-sorry-Bell-but-I'm-going-to-have-sit-this-one-out look towards me, and lifts one shoulder apologetically. "Sure."

Damn you, traitor! I'll get you back!

"So," Lee says, looking pointedly at me.

Oh. Yeah. The apologising part. "I was doped," I blurt out.

"Doped?"

"Yeah." I shrug. "You know what I'm like with medication. That's why I'm not s'posed to receive pain killers, remember?"

"Mmm."

Whoa. Real conversationalist, Lee Jordan is. "And I don't really hate you. Well, I do now," I add as a-not-very-well-thought-out-afterthought. "Because you're being stupid."

I know. I have such great insults.

"_I'm_ being stupid?" Lee asks. "You're the one that broke up with me and told me you hated me!"

I roll my eyes. "Please. That was _so_ last week. And I was on that potion!"

"Uh huh."

Okay. No more mister nice guy, buddy. "I hate you!" I wail in an I'm-just-really-pathetic-I-don't-really-hate-you kind of way.

"I hate you too!" Lee snaps back.

"I hate you more!"

"I hate _you_ more!"

"Nuh uh!"

Have I ever mentioned my high maturity level?

"Bell!" Oliver comes down and assesses the situation. "Pull yourself together," he commands. "I can't have players getting caught up in personal issues, if we're going to win the cup."

Jeez. Just because he's some sort of emotionless robot (hmm… maybe he uses botox?) he expects us to be, too.

"Um," I say, "okay. Wait!" I call after him, as he gives me a curt nod and keeps heading towards the portal. "Are you going down to the kitchens?"

"Yeah," Oliver says, raising an eyebrow at me.

"_Please_ don't leave me!" I beg, running after him.

"Er… I won't?"

"Wait for me!" I shout, catching up to him. "Okay. We can go now," I add in a quieter voice.

"Er, okay then," Oliver says slowly.

Poor guy. He really needs to get out more. Stick him in one slightly unusual situation and he can't even comprehend his surroundings.

* * *

I have decided that I am not going to care about a certain dreadlocked boy any more. If it were a choice between eating carrots or talking to him, I'd rather eat the carrots. If it were a choice between letting a hippogriff dissect my innards or let him save me, I'd chose to have them strewn about the grounds. Even if he were drowning in quicksand, I wouldn't pull him out.

'Course, it's a bit hard when he's in almost every single one of your classes.

In Transfiguration, we have to practice transfiguring our body parts. You know, like eyebrows and stuff. It's going to be on our Ordinary Wizarding Levels.

"Partners?" I ask Alicia, who's sitting on my right side.

She shrugs. "Okay. Just remember the spell correctly. I don't want this to be like that time in third year when you turned my thumb into a needle."

I laugh meanly. To be honest, I suck at Transfiguration. Absolutely suck. But that was probably the best fluke of my life. One minute I was waving my wand wildly in the air, and the next Alicia was jumping up and down and shrieking about her thumb. Classic.

"Whatever," I say.

So we begin practicing, right, when all of a sudden there's a commotion behind us, and I look up to see George trying to strangle Fred.

So of course, the whole class stops to watch. Nothing a bunch of fifteen-year-olds like more than a good old bloodthirsty fight.

"Why did you do that?" George demands.

To Fred's credit, he looks a little sheepish. "I was experimenting," he replies. "I didn't know that would happen!"

I can't actually see George's face from my position, but Alicia's expression is a mix of horror and amusement. She looks like she's struggling not to laugh.

"What happened?" I ask, leaning forward.

"Fred burnt George's eyebrows off," she answers, "and his eyelashes."

Eww. Have you ever seen people with no eyelashes? Let me tell you, it's scary. It's almost like people with white eyelashes, except not as bad. I have white eyelashes, and they're really scary. So bad, that one time, when I was little (and this was before I discovered that there was a little thing called mascara purely invented to take care of the problem) I tried to dye them black.

Let me just say that when you use shoe polish, _it does not work_.

"At least the teachers will be able to tell them apart," I say, my eyes still riveted on George who is now trying to physically remove Fred's eyebrows.

What he thinks he's going to do with them is beyond me. Glue them on? I'm sorry, but there is _no way_ I would glue Fred Weasley's eyebrows on me. Even if mine were shaved off.

"Mr Weasley!" McGonagall's voice cuts through the noise. "Mr Weasley!"

"It looks like she's woken from her cat nap," I quip. "Get it? _Cat_ nap?"

Everyone just stares at me blankly, until Lee starts snorting with laughter.

"Finished yet?" Angelina asks him politely.

Lee nods silently.

"Miss Bell, if you are quite done now, I would like you to demonstrate the spell now," Professor McGonagall says acridly.

"Oh," I grin, "the spell. Right." I turn to Alicia, who gulps nervously. "Relax, 'Lic," I say in a stage-whisper, "this won't hurt a bit. _Lacendous_!"

After that, we all stand around and admire my work. A job well done, I reckon.

"That looks painful," Fred notes.

"I don't know," Angelina replies, "at least it's colourful."

"Who knew Alicia was that bendy?" George smirks.

Okay. I would just like to say that due to my lack of natural talent, and the fact that I hadn't had enough time to practice, I deserve to get a reprieve. It wasn't my fault.

"I think you should take Miss Spinnet to the Hospital Wing," McGonagall tells me sternly. But hey- she looks like she's trying not to crack a smile.

"No! Please no!"

"Yeah, Professor, I think I will," Angelina says quickly, glancing at me. "Katie hasn't had such a good time with the Hospital Wing lately."

Whoa, way to go and blurt it out, Ange. Jeez.

"Okay," McGonagall says, looking vaguely concerned for me. "Are you alright Miss Bell?"

"Uh," I say. Well, my emotional health has deteriorated to about zero, on account of how I accidentally told my boyfriend I hated him, but no, I'm fine. "Oh yeah," I say cheerfully, looking pointedly at Lee, "I'm brilliant!"

Fred looks at me weirdly and puts his hand on my forehead. "You're about to strain your vocal cords, Bell," he says.

"Is it that bad?" Alicia finally asks.

"Uh," George says hesitantly. "No?"

"Yeah," Fred replies heartlessly, "it is."

"Don't listen to them," I assure her. "You look fine. Almost better than before!"

"On what world?" Ange asks.

"Um… mine?"

"Oh, and Mr Weasley?" McGonagall asks as the bell rings.

"Yes?" Fred and George ask at the same time.

"George," the Professor clarifies. "Perhaps you should accompany the girls."

"Oh yeah. The eyebrows," George remembers, shooting his twin a dirty look.

"Look on the bright side," Fred says as we exit the room, "now you can be called the pretty twin."

"Eww." I shudder. "People without eyelashes are freaky."

"Yeah, you prefer them with dreadlocks, don't you Bell?" Fred cracks, elbowing George as they laugh. Stupid Weasleys.

Ange goes to take 'Lic to the Hospital Wing. "Bye, Alicia!" I yell after her. "I'm sorry about your face!"

The response that I receive from her is not very polite, to say the least.

There's a whole pile of people standing outside the newly erected noticeboard, outside the Great Hall. A few students campaigned for one this year to put in the weekly newsletter. Most of it's boring stuff, you know like who won Gobstones club, who read the most books, et cetera.

But sometimes stuck up people like to post the latest _news. _As in, gossip.

When we draw closer, most of the people there turn around and start staring at us. I also happen to notice they're mostly girls.

"How could you?" one Ravenclaw shrieks dramatically, clutching her heart.

"How mean!" another exclaims.

"She never deserved to be with him in the first place!" A Hufflepuff fourth year remarks.

"What the hell are they talking about?" Lee wonders aloud.

I pretend to ignore him, and the other people.

"Hey! Look at this," Fred says, holding up a flier, which, incidentally turns out to be the _Hogwarts Hits_ (don't ask me who came up with the name. Some person who'd recently been hit in the head with a bludger, apparently).

"Give me that," I snap. And there, on the front page (well it's nice to know we're popular, I guess… either that or whoever writes it had nothing better to report than who the Reader of the Week is), is a picture of me and Lee, which is conveniently torn into two. Very neatly, actually, and I admire the handiwork for a second before I read the headline. That does not please me nearly as much.

_Deranged Chaser breaks up with lovable larrikin (what was she thinking?)

* * *

_

**A/N:** I'm sorry! But I might as well tell you guys they won't be getting back together next chapter, either. Please don't hate me:P 


	16. You're Going The WRONG Way!

**A/N:** I'm back. Yes, yes, don't sound so excited. :P This is a really long chapter, so sorry bout that. Sorry if it's a bit boring, too. Sorry… yeah, I'm just sorry for the whole chapter, basically.

Thanks to my reviewers: **sarcastic spastic**, **snuffles101**, **shadow929**, **LilJester**, **Annimouse**, **ShayaCatalyst**, **IddamSoyt** and **scared-of-open-spaces**.

* * *

**December 4th**

Bored.

There's practically a blizzard outside, so I can't go there. The library's shut for 'cleaning' (personally, I don't think any amount of cleaning will ever make _that_ place stop smelling like mouldy old books) and Fred and George are off God-knows-where to put some little scheme into action.

'Course, there's always Alicia and Ange, but they're boring. Besides, I don't know where they are.

Why is my life so _boring_? I mean, according to my brothers, Hogwarts was full of drunken nights out and exciting stuff.

What's so exciting about a ghost who thinks we're still in the fourth century?

Seriously. She's my only company. But even _she_ got bored and floated away through a wall to disturb some second years.

While I'm contemplating my extremely boring life and wishing I was placed in Slytherin (hey! At least there would always be something going on. "Guess what the Dark Lord wants me to do _now_! Wash my feet!") somebody comes in.

But it's only Connie Cretin. With Denny. Which is strange. But whatever. Maybe the social laws of second year- which states that if you talk to a first year you're 'immature'- have changed.

"Connie Cretin!" I yell, trying to get myself all enthused. Believe me, it's difficult.

And this really proves that I need to get a life.

"Katie Bell!" Connie exclaims, his face lighting up as if the Dalai Lama just greeted him in the middle of a market place. "I didn't see you!"

"Uh, yeah," I say. "Whatever."

There's a few moments of silence as Connie Cretin looks up at me expectantly, and I just stare down at him, particularly at the bit of green stuff stuck between his protruding teeth.

"Well," he says finally, "someone's looking for you."

"Who?" I ask excitedly. Whoa, I'm popular!

… Okay, so maybe not. It's probably like Snape or something. For a detention. Shudder.

"Oh, I don't know," he says, as if I'm retarded for even _suggesting_ that he might know who he was talking to. "They just said that if I saw you to tell you that they were looking for you."

Yeah, thanks a lot, Connie. That could practically be the entire school, with the exception of the Slytherins. On second thought, maybe they wanted to let me know that they're going to bash my face in or something. What a charming thought that is, too.

"What did they look like?" I persist.

"Uh… well they're tall…" he says slowly, scrunching up his face. The whole time Denny just sits there and gazes up at me blankly. I'm telling you, this is one _strange_ kid.

"Uh huh." Again, that could be most of the Hogwarts population. Most of the third years are taller than me, and even some of the second years.

"They have freckles…"

Great description. He is _so_ going to become an author when he grows up. You know. 'The big brown tree was very big. It had green leaves.' ... Yeah.

"And they've got this funny hair… it's bright red…"

"Oh. Do you mean the Weasleys?" I ask, realisation dawning on me at last. Jeez. I'm a bit slow.

"Yeah!" he says, grinning at me. "Do you know them?"

I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Oh, they're casual acquaintances," I reply coolly. "Thanks, mate. I better go find them." And with that I run out of the common room as fast as I can and turn left.

"Wait!" Connie shrieks desperately, sounding not unlike my mother. "You're going the _wrong way_!"

Yeah? Well too bad, buddy. I am hightailing out of there whether you like it or not.

During my aimless wonder, I come across a swamp.

Yeah. A _swamp_ in the middle of the fourth floor corridor. Because, you know, all schools have swamps in the middle of them.

Not.

It's even complete with life-like palm trees _and_ quicksand. Bubbling, oozing quicksand that just happens to have an arm sticking out of it.

And so I scream. I mean, seriously. If you happened to find an arm sticking out of quicksand, in the middle of your _school_, no less, wouldn't you at least be a bit apprehensive?

Major understatement for my reaction. I mean, for all I knew it could have been someone I knew! (But then again, it could have been a Slytherin. Which wouldn't really be that traumatic.)

So I'm just standing there, screaming, when all of a sudden two red heads step out from behind one of the palm trees at exactly the same time.

"Save them!" I yell, pointing at it. It's even got a robe on!

Fred and George adopt identical looks of horror. "I would," says Fred.

"But we can't swim," George adds sorrowfully. "After all, it wouldn't be much use if we _all_ ended up dieing, would it?"

"Who is it?" I yell. I think I'm in shock. Either that or the stupid potion (for which I will never forgive Madam Pomfry for) is still affecting me.

"Oh," Fred shrugs in a sort of sad, helpless way.

"It's Lee," George says, turning quickly and placing his head on his brother's shoulder as his shoulders shake silently.

"We were just walking along," Fred says, seeing as how George can't, "when all of a sudden he got stuck. And we tried and tried to pull him out, but we couldn't, and now he's g-g-_gone_!" With that, he bursts into sobs, turning away from me to regain his composure.

"Yes, and we sent for you, Katie," George continues solemnly, still not looking at me. "And we talked to him. We told him it would be all right, that you would come and help us pull him out soon enough. But… it wasn't, and now we can't see him!"

"He can still hear us, though," Fred adds quickly. "Don't you have something you'd like to tell him?"

My eyes were welling up with tears. "L-like what?"

Fred rolls his eyes, and glances back at George who raises his eyebrows. "You know," he says impatiently. "Like regrets or stuff."

"Um," I say. "I don't hate you Lee! Well, yeah, I do now because of that fight we had on Wednesday when you _knew_ that I didn't mean any of the things I said because you know how I get when I'm doped up but you still _had_ to bag me about it-" I take a deep breath. "And then you said some really mean things like how you hate me too and how you wished you never went out with me and you have the _worst_ temper ever, even worse than mine.

"So yeah. I hope you die on that quicksand. No, wait, I don't. That would be too mean. I just hope you get stuck in there forever."

I know. I'm so original. Well, I was panicking, okay? I mean, it's not like I'm exactly witty normally, let alone when my (former) best friend is getting eaten alive by alien sand in front of me.

"Well," Fred says after an awkward pause, "I do believe that about covers it."

"You know," George replies, "I do believe you're right."

"Well aren't you going to do something?" I ask. I mean, call me a hypocrite but I do think it's customary to save your friend when they're sinking. Maybe quicksand etiquette is different to lakes or something.

"Like what?" George wants to know.

"Oh, I don't know," I reply sarcastically. "Maybe _drag his sorry arse out of there_?"

"You know," Fred says slowly to George, "I do believe-"

"Shut up," I snap at him.

I mean, I'm not _seriously_ stupid enough to believe that it was really Lee. For one thing, the arm isn't moving.

A minor detail that I noticed less than thirty seconds ago, nonetheless.

Besides, no matter how evil they are, the twins wouldn't _really_ leave him there. Or anyone, really. With the exception of Flint. And Percy. And quite possibly Oliver, too.

"I can't believe you really thought I was that dumb," I tell them. "As if I would believe you!"

"But… you looked like you were about to cry," George points out.

I smirk at him. "I looked like I was about to cry that time I told you Binky the frog was about to croak, didn't I?"

And yes, George really did have a frog named Binky. But that's another story.

"Hey!" George glares at me. "That was a sad day!"

"Yes," Fred agrees, nodding sedately, "it was." He puts a hand over his heart dramatically. "Poor, poor Binky. Where art thou now?"

Seriously. He has _got_ to stop listening to Percy.

"Whatever," I say, my voice randomly getting louder. "Why did you even do that? Did Lee put it up to you?"

"No-" George began.

"I don't care any more! Well, when you're finished covering for him, tell him that I'm never going to talk to him again! What an arse! I can't even believe I went out with him!" I run blindly away, muttering things at the top of my voice that not everyone cares to know.

I just hear Fred say softly, "tough luck, mate," sympathetically, but it doesn't really register.

* * *

Gobstones. A wicked fun game to watch, when you're out of damage distance, but not so fun to play. 

I don't even know why I agreed. I mean, maybe I thought making fun of all the losers at Gobstones Club would boost my deflating ego. Or maybe just to laugh pathetically at them. Who cares?

The point is I let this girl in my Divination class sign me up for _Gobstones Club_. I might as well have just tacked a neon sign up on my head telling everyone I'm a loser.

Then again, I'm on the Quidditch team. Can't get much nerdier than that.

"Are you ready to start?" a scrawny Hufflepuff asks me, pointing to the board that miraculously, is all set up.

"Uh," I reply, "yeah?"

"Good," the Hufflepuff says. "I'll start."

"So," I begin after a few moments of silence during which the Hufflepuff contemplates their move, "aren't you going to tell me your name?"

"Huh?" he asks, as if the thought never even occurred to him. "Oh, yeah. Norman," he says, "Norman Norbody."

"Great. Hi, Normie. I'm-"

"Katie Bell," Norman says. "You're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I played against you during our match. Do you remember?"

I think hard. I don't, actually, but I can't admit it. It would be like surrendering to the enemy. "Yes," I say, "I do. And then Lee announced to the whole school that you were staring at me," I finish tactlessly.

"Oh." Norman Norbody blushes. "Sorry about that," he apologises. "It's just, I thought you said the weather was lovely."

I decide not to incriminate myself further by saying that I did. I don't think these people understand the meaning of sarcasm. Which is too bad, really, because that's practically the only crap that comes out of my mouth.

"You must have misheard me," I say, smiling awkwardly. "I probably said it was terrible."

"Oh." He nods. "I'm deaf in one ear."

"That would explain it, then," I reply. Meanwhile, all I can think is: _Oh my God this is so BORING!_

"Do you like Gobstones?" he asks curiously, waiting for my move. "I love it. It's practically the only think I'm good at, really."

Yeah, because you're sure not much good at Quidditch.

"In fact, the very first day at Hogwarts I signed up for this club. Gobstones can teach us so much, you know. It's almost poetic, don't you think? The smooth marble of the players, the fresh fragrance of the liquid. And when you play, you become one with the board. It's quite relaxing, actually."

Whoa. All I can say is: Don't give up your day job, buddy. This is one _dedicated_ player.

"Anyway," Norman seems to have relaxed considerably, judging from the way he's staring intently at me, "forget about me. What about you?"

"What about me?" I ask dumbly.

"Oh. Anything, really," he says. "Think of it like baring your soul to a complete stranger. We can carry each other's secrets around, until our graves. It'll be sort of like having a pen pal, except it's really more like Gobstone-pal. Get it? Gobstone-pal?"

Did he- well I do believe that Norman Norbody made a joke! Someone alert the Aurors!

"Yes, Norman," I say tiredly, "I get it. It's very funny," I add dryly. "Well I don't have any secrets. So I can't tell you them. Then they wouldn't be secrets any more, would they?"

"Well," replies Norman, thinking hard, "I guess they wouldn't."

And who said Hufflepuffs were slower than average?

"Would you like to hear _my_ secret, Katie Bell?"

No, not really. It'll probably be something like he stood on his mother's prized geraniums, or something.

"I heard you broke up with Lee Jordan," he whispers.

What the hell? That's his freaking secret? This kid needs to get a life!

"Yeah," I say cautiously.

"I like you," Norman says abruptly.

Well. That was unexpected. _Extremely_ unexpected. So unexpected, in fact, that I am on the verge of hyperventilating.

"_What_?"

"Yes," Norman says happily, "I like you, Katie Bell. Do you want to go out with me?"

No, no I do NOT!

"Norman," I say gently, "my boyfriend and I are only in the middle of a _disagreement_. Besides which, we only split up nine days, two hours and thirty-seven minutes ago!" (Okay, okay. I made up the minute part. But the days and hours part are approximately correct.)

I was trying to get him to think that I'm still hung up on Lee. Which I am. Well, technically I'm not now, because I decided I don't care about him. But that's not the point. My subtle approach isn't working.

"Oh," says Norman agreeably, "I understand. But that was… more than a week ago." He had to pause to count the days on his hands.

"So?"

"Well," he answers, "shouldn't you be over him now?"

See how _simple_ Hufflepuff's minds are?

"Look," I say, standing up so quickly that I knock over all the pieces and they simultaneously squirt smelly black ink all over me. "I _really_ have to go!"

And then I run away from Gobstones Club as quickly as I can.

* * *

The best thing about having four houses in a school, is that we are never in the same class with one of them all the time. 

Meaning, we don't share every class with the Hufflepuffs.

The class we have straight after lunch, (or Gobstone Club for some people) is History of Magic. Unfortunately, this is one of two classes we have with Hufflepuff.

"Hi, Katie!" Norman greets me as Ange and I walk in.

Ange raises her eyebrows at me.

"Long story," I mutter. I just nod mutely to Norbody; I know it's mean but how else am I supposed to make him rack off? Give him a manticore?

"So, Katiekins," George says from behind me.

"We heard you've just been to Gobstones Club," Fred continues, smiling widely at me.

"But of course, you only went to tease all the intellectuals there," George assures me. "Right?"

"Hey!" Alicia snaps from behind him. "I'm an intellectual!"

… Yeah, you just keep thinking that, honey.

"Yes, of course you are," George tells her, then leans forward and kisses her.

"Eww! If I wanted to watch people snogging I'd have signed up for Ancient Runes!" I exclaim. Ancient Runes is notorious for having snogging couples. The teacher couldn't really care less, and believe me; it is _traumatising_ walking into that class. Once I got lost and walked in, and I was mentally scarred for life.

"Yeah," Ange agrees, wrinkling her nose. Even though she does exactly the same thing with the _other_ Mr Weasley. You know. Percy.

… Yeah, that type of thing probably shouldn't even be _joked_ about.

"The point is," Fred says, seeing as how his brother is currently incapacitated, "we heard you have a new admirer." He looks over at Norbody.

"I _did_ tell him to rack off," I say ruefully, "but he just doesn't understand hints."

There's a sudden cracking sound, and I glance down to see Lee flexing his knuckles.

Stupid boys and their fricking egos.

Besides, we're not even going out any more.

Not that I still wish we were.

Of course not.

"Now now," George tells Lee calmly, "what did I tell you about bashing up Katie's potential love interests? You have to do it when no one is _looking_. Everyone knows that."

"You'd bash up Norbody just for liking Katie?" Ange asks with interest.

Oh, brother. This conversation is starting to take an embarrassing turn. I wonder if Binns'll notice if the floor swallows me up?

Probably not.

Fred interrupts the silence. "Hell, of course he would! _I_ would. So would George."

Gah! It's like the brothers-I-actually-do-have! I have three already. I don't need another two. Lee's not counted, because I mean, I went out with him. That would be like going out with my brother. If he was acting like my brother. Now he's just acting like an idiot. Yuck.

"I don't need more brothers, guys," I say lightly. "What do you think the other ones are? Ornaments?"

"Yeah, but we're here," George says. "Besides, I don't want to be your brother! Or, if we have to be, can we deny it in public?"

And there I was thinking my friends cared about me.

"Well what do you want me to do?" I ask. "Die a lonely old hag with seven cats and three budgies? Oh, and a pygmy puff. I've always wanted one of them."

Fred thinks about this. "Yeah," he says finally. "Preferably."

"Or," George says slowly, smirking evilly at me, "you can grow up and marry Lee and live happily ever after."

"As Katie Jordan."

"Yeah. And have lots of little babies…"

"Mutants. Just in case you're related."

"I think mum would have said something, Fred. You know how she is. So maybe their kid will just be a squib."

"Squibs are cool. Filch is a squib. Would you like your kid to grow up and clean Hogwarts, Lee?"

"No, Fred. How about cleaning that tea shop. You know, Madame Poofy-feet's?"

"Excellent idea, George. Couldn't have thought of a better one myself."

The whole time this was going on, Binns was droning on in the background, and Ange, 'Lic, Lee and I were just looking from one Weasley twin to the other, our jaws hanging open. It was a bit that muggle game, tennis, where you have to turn your head so fast you get whiplash.

"So," Lee says when the twins finally realise we're staring at them, "have you finished planning my life yet?"

"No," Fred replies. "You'll grow up to be a professional Quidditch commentator."

"And on the eve of your first big game, commentating for England and Greenland-"

"No, George, Finland."

"Sorry, Fred. England and Finland, you'll propose to Katie."

"Who will immediately reject you, because she is having a passionate fling with the captain of the Applby Arrows, Oliver Wood- "

"And she is a sports reporter for the _Daily Prophet_, of course."

"Of course George. And then you will carry yourself away and live in a cave in the mines of Australia, nursing a broken heart."

"Until Katie's uncontrolled longing for you can last no longer, and she comes looking for you."

"She finds you, half alive and living off sparrows."

"Do they have sparrows in the Australian desert, Fred?"

"I dunno. But he's eating them. And then Katie proposes to him, and Lee accepts. And then they go back to England and move into a nice big house."

"That Lee bought. Because he's rich."

"Yeah. Katie landscaped the garden."

"No, no. Have you _seen_ her in Herbology?"

"Good point."

"Okay, enough!" I shout, walking in between them, so they can stop doing their freaky little twin thing.

We all sit in silence for a moment.

"Katie," Alicia hisses loudly, "Norbody is staring at you."

"Why is he staring at you?" Angelina asks, panicked. "He shouldn't be staring at you! It's like, against the rules of Quidditch!"

Hypochondriac much?

"I have an idea," Fred says, grinning broadly.

Silence.

"Well?" Fred asks finally. "Aren't you going to ask what it is?"

"…No," Ange says.

Fred's crestfallen. "Oh," he replies. "Okay. Well, I'll tell you anyway." And then he leans over and whispers something in Ange's ear.

"_That's_ the plan? That's the _plan_?" she yells, looking incredulously at Fred.

"Uh, yeah?"

"This- this _idiot_," she stammers, so mad that she can't even talk properly, "reckons we should sabotage his broom!"

Um. Okay. Way to go, Fred. Now you've got her all riled up and it'll be Alicia and me who have to calm her down. Good one.

"No," George says, whispering to Lee, although I can still hear him, (how convenient) "I have a better idea." And then he lowers his voice further, but it must be good because Lee nods and whispers back.

"We'll do it."

* * *

Later that night, me and George go down to the kitchens to bring back some food for everyone else. Except when we get there, we see a whole pile of people clumped together a little way off. 

"Let's check it out," George says excitedly, and starts threading his way through the throngs of people.

It turns out to be a bunch of Hufflepuffs, all standing around and chattering anxiously.

"What's happened?" George asks a tall sixth year girl innocently.

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, but tells us anyway. "Our Quidditch team have found their uniforms all turned red and green, and they all have 'bell' on the back."

"What do you know?" George says calmly. "A Christmas theme!"

The Hufflepuff frowns. "Yes," she said, "but there were only six uniforms affected. The last one had…"

"Tell us," George prompted, leaning forward. "I won't tell a soul."

"The last one had giant love hearts all over it, spelling a girl's name. We've tried and tried to figure it out," she says, "but it's near impossible."

"What are the letters?"

"E," she answers, "I, K, A and T."

I turn red as I figure out what they are. How could they have been so _obvious_?

Then again, it wasn't like the Hufflepuffs had figured it out.

"And strange as it seems," the girl continued, obviously getting into the spirit of things, "the boy who's uniform it is won't take it off. Keeps muttering things about his broken heart."

"Thank you," George says politely, and we turn around to go back to the kitchens.

"You," I accuse, pointing as finger at him, "you did that. You and Fred."

"And Lee," George says, smirking.

"I'm going to _kill_ you!"

"Hey, it wasn't my idea. Well, it was," he amends, "but seriously. What sort of idiots would practice in the middle of a blizzard?"

"Wood would," I point out.

George frowns. "Good point," he nods. "But he's mental. They're just plain thick."

"You know," I say slowly, "I do believe you're right!"

* * *

**A/N:** Gah. Go on, flame me. I deserve it. That's how truly terrible this chapter was. It took me like, three weeks to write. I think. Maybe I'm just exaggerating. I can't remember. All I know is that most of the time I can write most of a chapter in one sitting, but this time I had to keep coming back… and back… and back… until I practically forgot the point of it. Well I did, really. Anyway, I'm sorry. Well I've already finished the next one (incidentally, it was finished _way_ before this one was even halfway done) so I'll try and update soon. That is, if you're still willing to read it, after this one. Gah. 


	17. Guess It's Too Bad For YOU!

**A/N:** Whoa, this is long. Like... yeah. Just really long. Sorry bout that, guys. I'll try not to make the next one as long. Thanks to the people who reviewed: **IddamSoyt**, **Snuffles101**, **ShayaCatalyst**, **Shadow929**, **sarcastic spastic**, and **Buffy the Mary Sue Slayer**. You guys rock!

... In other news, I've reached about 50,000 words for this story. I mean, that's what I calculated, but one can never be too sure. ;P Lol. Yay for me!**

* * *

December 6th**

I'm having a nice dream. You know, the classic softly rocking boat, nice warm sun, your hand softly trailing through the water…

Then my dream turns bad and I'm in the middle of a blizzard, but hey, I haven't thought to get up and off the boat. Stupid dreams. They make you seem so stupid, 'cause you're just sitting there going, "hey! I wouldn't do that!"

Like riding a camel. There is _no way_ I'm ever going to ride a camel. I mean, imagine how much the hump will hurt!

Anyway. Like I said, it gets really cold, and I start shivering. Then the wind starts and it sounds almost like it's calling my name. "Katie… Katie… Bell!"

And then there is this _freezing_ cold wetness on my face, so I sit bolt upright and it turns out I head-but someone straight in the face. Ha. Serves them right for turning my dream bad.

But then I realise exactly who it is that woke me up from my nice little boat dream. And what we're doing, floating on a mattress in the middle of the Black Lake.

Yeah. Floating on a mattress in the middle of the Black Lake. _Floating on a mattress in the middle of the Black Lake_. Sorry. It's so dramatic I had to say it twice. Well, three times, really.

"Holy _shit_!" I scream, looking around at… well, the water. Lots of water. And of course, being the middle of winter, there are great big chunks of ice. Hmmm. Maybe we can devise a devious plan to hop along the chunks of ice, balancing ever so carefully, and eventually reach the shore where we can call for help. That and strangle the person responsible.

"I think the correct term is 'dear Lord,'" Lee remarks dryly.

"Excuse me," I reply disdainfully, "but I am _not_ some snobby pom."

"Yes you are," Lee says, shaking his dreadlocks, "you're English, aren't you?"

Hmm. Point taken. "No," I answer smugly, even though he's right, "I'm Icelandish."

Lee just raises his eyebrows at me.

"What?" I ask defensively. "You've never seen one! You don't know what they look like!"

"You're English," he states simply, gazing around at the lake.

Have you ever seen a lake in the middle of winter that's so deep it's not actually frozen over? They are just so _ugly_. Blackish-blue water, with muddy, patchy bits of snow around the edges and large funny points of ice that I won't even say what they resemble.

"So," I say, "should I ask the obvious?"

Lee just points silently at a small piece of paper that appears to have been wrapped in some sort of plastic. Why they didn't just use some sort of waterproof charm is beyond me.

**You have been pranked by:**

The ever-outstanding- 

**Absolutely delightful-**

**_Simply marvellous-_**

**Ravishing-**

**_Delightfully handsome-_**

**I can't think of any more compliments.**

**_You're so stupid, Fred._**

**Be that as it may, George, at least I have the looks of the family.**

**_Looks? What looks? (Hate to break it to you, but we're identical twins.)_**

**Be that as it may, George-**

**_Whatever. The point is, Katie and Leroy, that it was Frederick and I who sent you on your little voyage. Have fun and don't come back._**

**Well not at least until you've made up. And preferably snogging. No, George, not in front of us. Eww.**

**_Actually, I was going to say ever. But until they've made up is fine. Same amount of time, anyway._**

**I think, dear friends, that my delightful brother is implying you are both stubborn arses and you will never relent. Correct, George?**

**_Correct, Fred. Oh, and if there's a blizzard… what happens if there's a blizzard, Fred?_**

**Oh. Didn't think of that. Guess it's too bad for you.**

**_Yes, and as you can see, ladies and gentlemen, my brother is at his most sympathetic. _**

Well. That was… entertaining.

Apart from the part where they basically admitted that they left us out here to die.

It's due to storm today.

"How could they _do_ this to us?" I yell. "What _stupid_, idiotic stupid-heads!"

"Harsh, Bell," Lee says mildly from his side of the mattress.

"Shut up," I snap. "I have to think."

"Don't strain yourself."

Do you SEE what I am forced to put up with, every day of my life? Well, except for Christmas Holidays. And Easter holidays. And school holidays. And…

Never mind.

"By the way," Lee says, "is this your mattress or mine? I think it might be yours."

"And how would you know?" I ask brusquely.

Lee just raises his eyebrows at me.

"Oh," I say sheepishly, "don't answer that question."

Seriously. It's like that scene in Alicia's favourite movie. You know. Parental Tap, or something. The brats send her off into the middle of a lake to die. Rather morbid, come to think of it. And she jumps up and down and then falls off. Good thing I haven't started jumping up and down.

At least these mattresses are sturdy. Speaking of which, I hope Hogwarts isn't going to sure Fred and George and make them pay for a new mattress. I mean, they could just freaking _conjure_ a new one. Wait… they'll probably sue Lee and me instead.

Damn.

"You're paying for my share of the mattress," I mutter under my breath.

"Me? Why me?" Lee complains.

"Because you're the rich one," I reply triumphantly.

"So are you," he returns.

"Am not."

"Yes, you are. Remember all those times we've had to go to those stupid balls together?"

"They're not stupid," I say, even though they are and I just want to fight. "Besides, that was for Ministry employees, not the rich people. Duh."

"They are stupid, and you're still rich."

"Why are we even talking about my family's financial situation?" I demand. "I want off this bed!"

"Uh huh." Lee rolls his eyes. "And just how do you plan on getting off?"

"Well," I say slowly, "by the ice."

"The ice?"

"Yep. Jump across."

"On the _ice_?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"I think you did. But I can't believe you'd be stupid enough to even consider it."

"Yeah, thanks a lot, Lee. The whole time I've known you, you've always said I'm stupid. Well _guess what_? I don't care!" I try and control my heavy breathing. It wouldn't do to burst into tears on a mattress in the middle of a very deep lake. Suppose the Giant Squid came up and tried to eat me, only I couldn't see it because my eyes were all puffy from crying?

"Katie." Lee's expression softens and he grabs my hand. Not in an aw-how-romantic kinda way, though, more like an I'm-only-grabbing-your-hand-so-you-don't-jump-off-this-mattress-into-the-dark-scary-lake sort of way. Not nearly as appealing.

"Let go of my hand."

"Katie," Lee says sincerely, "I'm sorry. I always thought it was a bit of light teasing. You know. I honestly didn't know you felt like that."

"Yeah, well, now you do," I say, pulling my hand away. "You know, when a person is told often enough they're stupid, they start to believe it."

"Do you?"

I shrug modestly. "Yeah, well, during the holidays I took a Muggle IQ test. I scored smarter than a smart adult."

"So you only act blonde?"

I grin. "I _am_ blonde, stupid. So basically you're saying that I act dumb, yet deep down I'm not?"

Lee thinks about this. "Yeah," he decides.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Why not?" Lee smiles.

We sit in a sort of companionable silence for a minute, before Lee ruins it. "You know," he says, "I think this is the longest conversation we've ever had."

I gawk at him. "Are you serious? What about when we were going out?"

Lee smirks at me. "We spent most of the time snogging."

Hmm. Does that make me sound like a tart? I'm very conscious of sounding like a tart. I blame it on my mother. She's drilled the whole 'scarlet lady' thing into me. Stupid mothers and their morals.

"What about when we were just friends?"

Lee shrugs. "I dunno. This just seems different, somehow. You know?"

I nod. It does, really. It feels… better.

"So," Lee says, (he's definitely braver than me today) "are we going to talk about it?"

"About what?" I ask, pretending to be confused. I know very well what the 'it' is. The fact that my brother's mouse died! "I'm very upset," I sniff. "He was a good pet. Poor, poor Mr Squiggles. He was very old. Almost as old as Ron's rat. But not quite."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mr Squiggles. Chris' mouse," I reply, bewildered. "He died. What are _you_ talking about?"

"Oh," Lee laughs. "You know. About green eggs and ham."

"Green eggs and ham? _Oh_! Green eggs and _ham_!" I say loudly. "Right."

"I'm sorry," Lee says tentatively, when I remain silent. "I was just… I dunno. Upset, I guess. I think I knew deep down it wasn't your fault."

"You think you knew deep down it wasn't my fault?" I snort. "You're going to have to do better than that!"

"Er." Lee runs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry? Katie Bell, I sincerely apologise."

"Nope." I just wanted to see how far he'd go.

"Um… will you marry me?"

All of a sudden I snort in a very unladylike way so I'm like gagging on air. It takes me about five minutes until I can actually breath properly. "Furball," I mutter. Then I remember the problem at hand. "_WHAT?_"

At least he looks a bit sheepish. "My brother told me to say that when girls are mad at you."

My jaw's hanging open. "Have you missed the fact that you are almost _sixteen_ and so you probably shouldn't be listening to him any more? Besides, isn't he that bum who ran off with the stripper?"

Lee nods. "That's the one. Well what else I supposed to say? In case you didn't notice, I already tried apologising."

"Yeah, but you were supposed to say something like, 'Katie you are the best. Please forgive me o merciful one.' And then hail me. By the way," I add as an afterthought, "I'm already betrothed to Aaron Abbot. When we were three," I say in response to Lee's quizzical look.

"Ah. Imagine being married to him," Lee snickers.

I glare at him. "Well at least he's nicer than you!"

"He is not!"

"He is too!"

"Is not!"

"Yes, he is. Now shut up." Ha. At least I can make Lee shut up. Maybe he thinks I'll push him off the mattress if he doesn't. Then again, I don't think I could. He could probably push me off, though…

Not to self: Don't antagonise Lee for the remainder of this little boat trip.

"So you don't want to marry me?" Lee asks, feigning hurt.

"Uh… no, not really. I'm not going to marry anyone," I declare. After all, who wants to run around after a husband? And what if he was secretly a Death Eater, so then I'd be expected to run around after Voldemort. What if he ordered me to wash his feet? Eww.

"So you'll die a lonely old spinster?" he smirks at me. "With seven dogs and three budgies?"

I shake my head. "I'm seriously starting to give up on the idea of the dogs. Besides, I can't give up the Bell name. It'll be bred out of existence!"

"Bell… you have three brothers," Lee replies annoyingly.

"Yes," I say smartly, "but it's not like any girl is seriously going to even _consider_ marrying them."

"Does that mean no guy is even going to _consider_ marrying you?" Lee questions, mimicking the bitchy tone I used.

I scowl at him. "_You_ did," I point out.

"Yeah, but that was a joke. I wasn't serious."

"Good. Gettin' a bit worried there for a moment."

"Mmm."

Oh, God no. Once he gets like this he's going to stop talking completely. Then I'll go insane- unless I can find a quaffle to talk to! Yeah. And I'll name it: Bert. Yep.

"Lee! Lee wake up, buddy! Don't leave me!" he looks like he's nodding off. Oh well. At least if he falls in the water, I'll have a valid excuse for not getting him.

"Huh? Oh, sorry bout that. I haven't had my coffee fix."

Oh, right. The stupid yellow coffee cup.

"Can you hear that?" Lee asks suddenly, cocking his head to the side.

I pause. "No. Yeah. It sounds like…"

"Air!" Lee and I shout together.

"Fuck!" I exclaim. We're in the middle of a lake with a hole in our 'boat'.

"Find it!" Lee says, and we both begin searching the mattress.

"Wait," I say. "Isn't this like, a _normal_ mattress? Why would it have a hole?"

Haha. We forgot that minor detail. Whew.

"Yeah," Lee answers, staring down at the mattress, "it is. But it still has a hole."

"You know," I puff, a few minutes later, tired from crawling all over the mattress trying to brush the water off with Fred and George's little post-it note, "if I didn't know the Weasley twins better I'd say they put that hole there on purpose."

"I bet they're watching through binoculars from the shore," Lee mutters darkly. "With coffee. And food."

"Not carrots," I object.

"Not carrots," Lee agrees. "Besides, Bell, it's breakfast."

"Imagine Oliver," I say, envisioning the glorious sight that will be Oliver trying to strangle Fred and George because they gave his Chaser hypothermia. "He's going to freak."

"Yeah," Lee laughs, "but not half as much as Fred and George when they realise what we're going to do to them."

"Let's make a pact," I say, spitting into my hand. (Hey, there are some traditions from my tom-boy days that I just can't let go.) "Whoever reaches Fred and George first gets to mutilate them."

"That's a bit gross," Lee says, spitting into his hand and shaking it.

"What?" I protest, wiping my hand on my pyjama bottoms. (After all, Lee might be carrying germs.) "It's only spit."

"Not that. The mutilating bit."

"Fine. We'll just make their lives living hell," I reply nonchalantly. I know. I'm evil.

"Deal."

"I don't think this is working," I say, surveying the damage. Most of the mattress is covered in water.

Lee shrugs. "At least you'll drown first."

I roll my eyes at him. "But you'll drown eventually. Besides," I add snidely, "this isn't like quicksand. You won't be able to hear some last words."

"Hey," Lee blanches. "That was their idea. Besides, I wasn't even in the pit."

"Yeah. I _did_ figure that out," I answer. "So," I say finally, when we both just sit there staring at the rising water. "Should I jump, or you?"

"What?"

"On the ice blocks, stupid."

"How about neither of us?" Lee suggests. "It won't work, Bell. They won't hold our weight. Our best bet is to try and paddle to that island." Then he points to an island that looks about three hundred and fifty yards away.

Oh yeah, Lee. Because we'll really be able to get to that before the freaking mattress sinks! I tell him that we'll drown anyway, so why don't we just close our eyes and jump onto that passing hunk of ice?

He replies that it's way too pointy, and do I know what will happen if we slip and fall?

"Ouch," I reply, gazing admiringly at the large point.

"Exactly," Lee winces, no doubt imagining just how _much_ it'll hurt.

"So. Got any more ideas, genius?"

"Uh… we call for help?"

I nod, grinning widely. "Oh, great! Here you effing wankers who are standing on the shore in sub-zero temperatures but just want a nice view of our arses! Save us!"

We pause a moment, and then Lee says, "you know, I don't think that worked."

"What gave you that idea, Einstein?"

"Oh," Lee says insouciantly, "the fact that they haven't come to rescue us."

"Uh huh."

We sit a few moments more, before I can't stand the silence. "Are we dead yet?"

"…No."

Silence.

"How 'bout now?"

"No."

More silence.

"Now?"

"No, Bell."

Whoa, I just can't get him to shut up; he's talking so much and so fast.

"How come you always come off as the adult in these situations?" It's annoying, really. I always seem like the whiny little kid, while he's the calm and collected one.

"I guess I'm just more mature than you."

"Nuh uh. You're older."

"By about three months."

"Five."

"Really? I could've sworn it was three."

"No, five months and three days."

"You counted?"

"It isn't that hard. Any person remotely capable of basic Arithmacy could calculate it."

"So you're an intellectual _and_ a mathematical genius?"

"Are you _flirting _with me?"

Silence.

"If you are, it won't work."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah."

And so that ended that conversation. Pity. It was getting rather interesting, I thought.

"Lee."

He's ignoring me. Well, buddy, just because your macho-ism is ruined, doesn't mean that you get to sit around all day like a log. Let me remind you that this _is_ still my bed.

"Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee. Lee-"

"_What?_"

Ah. That's better. "The water's up to my waist now. Can we please get to that island?"

"Is it?" Lee glances down, looking guilty. I'm not sure whether it's because he's looking at my waist, or because he's letting me drown.

"Lee. That's not my waist."

"Whoops. My bad," he smirks.

Seriously. He should _so_ have been put in Slytherin. I mean, he has all the qualities. Perversion (although strangely enough, I'm really the only one he ever seems to perve on), cunning (apparently all Gryffindors have it), snideness (then again, the Sorting Hat said I have that too) and… well, that's about it, really. I mean, he doesn't go for Voldemort or guys, so that leaves out the rest of the Slytherin qualities.

"Uh, yeah. About the island, Bell. Look to the left."

Hmm. Looking, looking. I can't see anything. A bit of misty stuff. A fish that just jumped out of the water and ate a hummingbird. A tentacle…

A _tentacle_?

"Yeah," he says, looking at my expression. "I think we have a visitor."

You know, everyone reckons that the Giant Squid is really nice. You know, helps you when you're drowning or being attacked by the vicious little merpeople, finding your belongings that have been thrown in there buy vindictive Slytherins, or generally just being an all-round nice… squid.

Unfortunately, he must be having a bad day. Either that or he hadn't had his coffee fix yet, like Lee.

"Grr!"

I didn't even _know_ Giant Squids went 'Grr!', but this one does. Maybe it's some sort of mutated freak, and so that's why it spends all it's time hiding in the lake, and tries to be nice to people. You know, so it'll be accepted.

Maybe today it gave up on the idea of being accepted.

Whatever the reason, Mr Squid is not a happy chappie.

"Um, Katie?"

"Yeah, Lee?"

"I think we're going to die now."

Hmm. Well isn't that a charming thought. At least, when we come back as ghosts (you know, to finish our schooling, cause ghosts are only ghosts if they have unfinished business… do you suppose someone died whilst they were on the toilet and so then they had to come back as a ghost?) we'll be able to brag to all the other ghosts that the Giant Squid killed us, instead of a rival Underworld gang. Cool as.

"Maybe it we sacrifice someone he'll be happy…" I say hopefully.

Lee looks at me.

I look at Lee.

"It's no use," he says, "there's only two of us."

"It'd be better if Fred or George were here, then we could offer them up."

"True," he says, looking thoughtful. "Katie?"

"Yeah?"

"_Swim for it!_" And with that, he jumps off the mattress (in the process, doing a very painful looking belly-flop) and into the murky water below.

I hesitate for a second, before jumping in, too.

Look, I'm not the best swimmer. I used to be okay when I was a kid, but then I discovered Quidditch and halleluiah! I began a Quidditch career (if you call playing on the House team a career). And so I've hardly swum since.

So you can hardly blame me when I start thrashing about in the water, causing bubbles to surface next to me.

The Giant Squid sees me, and then with a roar that's so loud I can even hear it underwater, it reaches out with a long tentacle thingy (surprisingly, it's very pretty. Well, from what I can see of it. It would _really_ help if Fred and George had filched our wands as well, not just us) and grabs me.

I try shouting help, but all that gets me for my trouble is a lungful of water so bad I feel like I'm about to pass out. But just when I think I can see a white light (my uncle Morty had a near-death experience once, and he reckoned he saw a new species of bird. He's a bird watcher, see. But then Morty has always been a bit… feathery.) I'm taken into a sort of cave, and to my surprise I can take a huge breath.

"Eck," I say, upon spewing up about three litres of water. "You really need to clean that lake water."

"Don't you think I've tried?" a voice wails. "But then the merpeople think it's their duty to mess it all up again!"

I'm so startled at the voice that I fall over onto my backside. I mean, I was really only talking to myself.

The owner of the voice is… a squid.

Seriously. A huge, monstrosity of a squid. He has very pretty eyes, though. And he's _pink_. Eww.

"Are you planning on eating us?" I ask suspiciously.

The squid's loud laugh booms throughout the cave, making it echo. "No! I just wanted some company, that's all."

"You just seemed very… abrasive," I decide. "Normally you're so cheerful and jolly."

"Did you just say jolly?" Lee wants to know, coming out from nowhere.

"Uh… yes?"

Lee just smirks at me. "Edward, this is my friend Katie Bell."

Oh. Edward the squid. How… original.

"Hi, Edward."

"Nice to meet you Katie Bell."

Great. I've been introduced to a squid. That's really something that happens everyday. Not.

"So," I say, trying to make conversation, "how long have you lived down here, Edward?"

This is evidently the wrong thing to ask, because Edward the squid bursts into tears.

Have you ever seen a blubbering squid? No? Well, let me tell you, it's not pleasant. Even worse than white eyelashes. "Please don't cry!" I beg. "I'm sorry!"

Edward smiles through his tears. "It's j-j-just that, I've lived h-here for m-m-more than t-t-t-three hundred year-ear-ears! And every year, I m-make a application t-to be m-m-moved, and every y-y-year they deny it!"

Whoa. This squid really has problems with his 'M's.

"Why?" Lee asks.

"B-because," Edward replies, "they think I'm good for t-t-the school!"

How? If he weren't in it, my friends and me would go swimming in it every weekend, practically. Well, not really, because of the merpeople with their pitchforks, but whatever.

"Oh," Lee nods knowledgably, "you are."

"H-how?"

"Because," he answers, shooting a please-help-me-out-here-I'll-never-ask-you-anything-again glance at me.

"The spirit you bring to Hogwarts," is the first thing that enters my admittedly small brain. "You know. You just bring this school together."

"Yeah," Lee agrees. "And… your efforts to clean up the lake."

"Yeah. If it weren't for you, the lake would be _much_ more disgusting than it already is!"

Okay, so maybe that was slightly insensitive.

"W-wow," Edward says, brightening. "You know, I really do help Hogwarts out."

"Oh, yeah," I say, nodding, "a lot."

"We're practically indebted to you!" Lee says.

No need to go that far, Lee. Next thing we know he'll be all, "yes, you are! I think I'll eat you now!"

"Thanks a lot," Edward says, smiling cheerfully at us. "You guys have really helped me. By the way," he says, "why were you in the middle of a lake on a bed?"

So then we have to tell him our whole story, and by the time we're finished my stomach's rumbling. Of course, Edward, being the gracious host he is, offered me some red cap salami, but I choose not to eat it.

Then he offers to take care of Fred and George if he ever saw them.

"Sure," Lee agrees brightly.

At the same time, I say desperately, "no! It's fine, really. We can do it ourselves."

After all, he'll probably decapitate them and then stew them raw.

"Okay," Edward says, looking vaguely disappointed, "would you like a ride back up to the shore?"

"Yes please," Lee and I say simultaneously.

"Take a deep breath now," but before we can, Edward grabs us by the legs and starts swimming up to the top.

When we reach it, he stretches out his tentacles long enough so that we're dumped in a heap on the shore.

Of course, somehow I land right on top of Lee.

"Oof!" Lee groans when I land on him. I mean, I've just been dropped twenty meters in the air. It might hurt a little bit, Lee! Sheesh.

We both lie there, catching our breath when Lee moves to get up.

"You can get off me, Bell," he says amiably.

My face burns. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He grins impishly. "I quite liked it, actually."

I groan and stagger to my feet, giving him a punch. Lee, being Lee, doesn't even move.

"Okay," I say to him, as he puts an arm around my shoulders to steady himself, "I would put an arm around your shoulders too, but that is wishful thinking." I mean, I can barely reach them, let alone put my arm around them!

"I think," Lee says, still breathing hard, "we should go to the Hospital Wing."

"Nah," I answer. "How about let's not."

"I think we should."

"I think we shouldn't."

"I don't really care what you think."

"Whoa. Harsh, Lee. Fine. I'll give in. But only this once." I'm really not that eager to see Madame Pomfry again. I wonder if she has to report to the Ministry or St Mungo's or something if a student is there more than they should be? Does that mean I'll have to be hospitalised in the mental ward?

We stagger up to the Hospital Wing together, Lee with his arm around my shoulders and mine with an arm around his waist. Remember, this is purely for medicinal purposes. I mean, I wouldn't have my arm around his waist unless I thought I was about to pass out. Right?

"I don't tolerate public displays of affection in the Hospital Wing!" is the first thing Pomfry snaps when we practically fall through the door.

Lee and I look at each other and laugh. I don't know. Maybe we are crazy.

"We've been," Lee manages to say.

"At the bottom of the Black Lake," I announce.

"And," he says. Sheesh. I mean, I know I'm fitter than he is because I play Quidditch, but seriously, he needs to do a few laps around the pitch. He can hardly breathe!

"We're practically dieing," I finish. "So if you'd be so kind as to revive us, we'd be very grateful."

Madame Pomfry looks at us suspiciously, then seems to decide to believe us. "Okay," she says, "you, on that bed. You, on the other one. I'll just go get some Sleeping Draught."

"Nice going, Katie," Lee grins at me. "Way to make a dramatic announcement. Just tell 'em we're dieing. That'll get their attention."

I smile sheepishly. "So? It worked, didn't it? Besides, it's not like you could say more than two words."

"Yeah. Maybe I need to start training with the Quidditch team."

"As if Oliver'd let you."

"Maybe I need to hang round you a bit more."

"Maybe," I agree.

"So," Lee says hesitantly.

"So what?"

"So… are we okay?"

"Yeah. We're okay."

"You still don't want to marry me?"

I laugh. "No, thank you for the kind offer, though."

"How about going out with me?"

"Again?"

"Again," he confirms.

"Hmm. If I have to."

"You have to."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if you thought this was really random and strange. Well, by now most of the chapters are really random and strange, so you shouldn't really be surprised. Just that this one is stranger than most. And, I know. I'm too soft! I had to get them back together. Gah. I need to grow a backbone.

Thanks also to everyone who reviewed my little ficlet about Angelina and Fred; it was good to try something different.


	18. So Brilliantly DEVIOUS

**A/N:** I know I said that this chapter was going to be shorter. I know I did. I mean, it is. It just has more words… a lot more words…

I can't believe I picked the worst day to update the last chapter. The day before everyone's accounts were frozen so they couldn't review! Ha. The irony…

Thanks to my loyal reviewers: **shadow929** and **snuffles101**. Thanks also to **aNoNyMoUs QuIdDiTcH gAlLiE** who I think went a bit button-happy and practically doubled my reviews. Okay, not really, but close. At least now I'm back up to an average of ten whole reviews a chapter. (I know! I figured it out! Gah I'm so smart….)

* * *

**December 12th**

It happened at breakfast.

And of course, he HAD to send the freaking featherless bird.

So not only did it manage to fall on top of Jacey Inglese's head (and believe me, if you were an owl you would _not_ pick Jacey Inglese's head to land on. She's almost six feet tall and a purple sash in Duelling Club.) but it smashed through he butter, the yoghurt, the jam and last but not least- the maple syrup.

Have you ever had a whole tub of maple syrup spilt on you? If you have, you will know that it is sticky. And that it smells really, really bad.

So I'm just standing there, trying not to breathe in my own smell so as to avoid throwing up, staring at his bloody bird which looks not unlike the Weasley bird, Errol. Everyone's yelling and screaming and just making a huge fuss, whilst Dumbledore sits up at his table, staring down at us, his annoying blue eyes sparkling with amusement.  
Oh, it's funny all right. But maybe I could laugh about it a bit more if my eyelashes weren't sticking to my eyebrows.

"Well?" Ange prompts. "Who's it from?"

"Chris," I mutter darkly, still locked in a staring contest with the bird.

"Chris who?"

"Bell! My brother? Sheesh. And you call yourself my friend, woman!"

"Hey! Isn't that the one that dropped you on your head?" Fred shouts excitedly, causing the whole table to laugh at my expense. Oh, great. This is going to be another 'Let's laugh at Katie' day, I can just tell.

"No, Fred," I inform him acridly, "that was Michael. Or it might have been Alex."

"What does he want?"

I opened up the (shoddily sealed) envelope and scanned it.

"Uh huh. Right. WHAT?" I exclaim, so that even the Hufflepuffs, who are at the table furthest away, can probably hear me. "He wants to know if I'm free tonight."

"Why?" Alicia demands.

"He wants to get drunk apparently."

"Doesn't he know that you're still a minor?" Alicia exclaims indignantly.

"Sure," I shrug. "He just doesn't care."

Chris is the middle brother, and my favourite 'cos he doesn't care about the rules. He's a bit like Bill Weasley, really, except more… obnoxious.

Alex, the oldest, is one of _those_ people. You know. The ones who follow rules and obey conformity and stuff. I guess he's a bit like Percy.

Oh, God. Is my whole family like the Weasleys? And if they're like Percy and Bill, who does that make me like? Fred?

The youngest brother, Michael, is three years older than I am and he finished Hogwarts… a while ago. I'm ashamed to say that in terms of personality, his pretty much matches mine. Minus the intellectual part. And the wit.

We both get mad and violent very easily, and we're mean to each other about ninety-nine per cent of the time we spend together. Mum reckons we don't get on because we're too similar. Hell, she's probably right.

Having a mum like mine is really embarrassing. I've mentioned before that she likes dragging us around to muggle museums and that she's very keen on embracing our muggle heritage, not matter how insignificant it is. She's like one of those new age people, and whenever we go over to Gran's house (Dad's gran, actually) she exclaims in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "look, kids! It's a tock!"

Luckily Gran is partly deaf.

My dad is a pretty easy-going guy. Just goes to work, comes home and drinks coffee.

But every now and then, him and my mother get into a PDA (public display of affection) frenzy. Let me tell you, you do NOT want to be around them when that happens.

So there you have it. My family.

And speaking of that, I read the part of the letter where it says what Chris wants me for.

His twenty-first birthday.

I don't get it. Why is that more exciting that his seventeenth? After all, seventeen is when you become a legal adult. Whatever. He reckons he's having a party and not telling the 'rents about it.

Should be fun.

Not.

* * *

"Hurry up!" Angelina hisses towards Alicia, who's taking her own sweet time getting dressed. 

"I'm coming," Alicia whines back, patting her hair one last time. "Do I look okay?"

I roll my eyes. Trust 'Lic to be all worried about how she looks for my brother's _birthday_, no less. "You look fine."

When we get downstairs, the guys are waiting for us.

"So where are we going?" Fred asks, scratching his head.

"_Chris_," I sigh exaggeratedly. "You know. My brother."

"Uh huh," Fred nods knowledgably. "Gotcha."

We sneak down the passageway towards the secret tunnel that leads into Hogsmeade. It just so happens that Chris is conveniently having his little gathering in the Three Broomsticks. I mean, is that coincidence or what?

"Check for all illegal personnel," George commands Lee.

Lee pokes his head around the corner. "All clear, Captain," he informs him, grinning widely.

Sigh. They are so immature. I feel an urge to join in. Gah. I am so juvenile. And I love it.

"So," Ange says, as we all duck at a particularly low spot near in the passageway, "are any of your brothers hot?"

"Hey!" Fred exclaims indignantly, leaning over and giving Ange a kiss. "What about me?"

"Oh," Ange smirks. "I'm so over you."

Before they really start fighting, I interrupt (after all, I'd be the one who had to suffer the consequences of their break up when Ange starts trailing after me moaning about how much she misses Fred). "I wouldn't know. I'm not into relations."

"Hmm. Well, I'd say you're handsome, George," Fred says thoughtfully.

"Why thank you. You're not that much of an ugly mole yourself," George replies generously.

Ha. Isn't he _kind_?

Lee presses in closer to me, and all at once I remember he's afraid of the dark. Huh. I'd forgotten about that.

"Well, I haven't eaten any carrots lately," I tell him regretfully. "So I won't be much use in the dark."

"Oh," Lee says. "Stuff you!" he laughs and moves up next to Fred. I mean, obviously he isn't getting any closer to him than he needs to. Huh. Maybe Lee's secretly batting for the other team, and all this time I've never known. What if he has a crush on Fred?

Well he can't have a crush on Fred, because Fred and Ange are supposed to be together forever, so Lee will have to find some other poor boy to settle down with. Maybe Cedric Diggory will take him on?

Whatever.

"Here we are," George says gallantly, opening up the hatch and then stepping aside for everyone else. "Not you, Katie," he says as I move to go past him. He pushes past and grins back at me. "Ladies first!"

Well. I'm not quite sure who he's insulting there. Me or him? Perhaps it's like killing two birds with one huge rock, or something.

The inside of Honeyduke's is dimly lit, as if all the customers have left but the owners haven't quite decided whether or not to go to bed yet.

"Quiet," hisses Fred, as 'Lic trips over a container, "you'll wake up the guard dog."

"What sort?" Ange asks, who has an odd fascination with dogs, seeing as how not many wizarding households own them, but all her muggle neighbours do.

"Jack Russel," Fred whispers, as if just saying the words out loud will cause it to ravage us.

"No!" Ange gasps, clearly terrified.

"A miniature Jack Russel puppy attacked me once," Alicia says to nobody in particular. "I kept shaking my leg to get it off, and it just get hanging on and hanging on." She shudders. "It was terrible."

I nod. I have no idea what the hell a Jack Russel is, but an image of a large beast not unlike a small dragon comes to mind. God, I hope we don't wake it up.

"Who's Jack Russel?" Lee questions. Needless to say, nobody bothers answering him.

"It's this way…" Fred murmurs, leading the way up a narrow staircase and out into the actual shop. Brilliant multi-coloured jars are everywhere, as are signs advertising all sorts of lollies ranging from "Suck-It-Up-Lolly-Pops" to "Mint-Flavoured-Honeycomb-Chocolate". In any case, it hasn't changed much from the last time I visited. Which really wasn't all that long ago, about last week.

"Guys? I'm serious! Who's Jack Russel?"

"Oh, _shit_!" Angelina exclaims, as she trips over a booby-trap in the middle of the floor, and an alarm goes off that strangely enough, sounds like a bloated hippopotamus with withdrawal symptoms.

"Run!" Fred whispers loudly, and we all bolt the hell out of there, conveniently knocking over an entire shelf of raspberry liquorice wands while we're at it. Damn. I love them, but how will I be able to eat them now that I know they've been on the floor? Ah, stuff it. Ten second rule.

I grab some up just before I'm pushed out the door by Alicia, who had to fiddle with the locks for some time. Guess they're not all that paranoid about Hogwarts students coming up from underground and ransacking their shop, then.

"Well," I say cheerfully, whilst Fred and George are laughing and Alicia is counting her blessings, "at least we're right on time!"

Lee looks at me strangely. "We're almost an hour late."

I shrug. "In my family, there's no such thing as being fashionably late."

"You're family is weird." Alicia states. "Let's go."

It's only a short walk to the Three Broomsticks, made all the shorter by the fact that we could hear the music blaring and the lights from Honeydukes.

"Katie!" some random dude near the door shouts at me as I push it open, "How're you going?"

I nod. Am I supposed to know who the hell he is? "Yeah, not bad. Who are you?"

Nothing like stating it bluntly, I reckon.

He looks surprised, coming over to give me a one-armed hug. "You don't remember? I'm Michael's friend's brother! Jack? Jack Russel?"

I nod. Is he asking me his name, or what? I guess it's right. "Um. Yeah," I say unconvincingly. "That dude who broke my arm when I was six."

He beams. "Sorry about that, mate. You were in the way."

Yeah. In the way of his pineta stick. I mean, the fact that I was at least ten feet away, purely because I knew that someone would wander away from the freaking pig and hit me had nothing to do with it. I mean, do I _look_ like a pineta to you, buddy?

No, wait. Don't answer that.

"Get some slush in you!" he exclaims, handing me a bottle.

I examine it. Something called _Beer_. Ha. _Real_ original, whoever thought that up. Sheesh. I squint my eyes to read the fine print. _Children under 18 not to consume._

Ha. More than two years under the legal age limit. Alright!

"Katie," Alicia says worriedly from beside me, glancing around nervously at all the twenty-something guys who were in the room, "are you sure this is safe?"

I grin and slap her on the shoulder. "Do you not have _any_ faith in me?" I lament dramatically. "Of _course_ it's safe!" I take a swig of the stuff. And spit it out immediately. Eww! What's this Jack Russel dude trying to do? Poison me?

I hand the bottle over to Fred and make my way through the threads of people, looking for one of my brothers. I mean, I have enough of the damn things, I should be able to find one quickly enough.

Oddly enough, it's the birthday boy I see first. "Katie!" he says when he sees me, giving me a sloppy hug. He's obviously been celebrating for awhile. In other news, he's totally pissed. "You're late!"

"A Bell," I inform him, "is never late."

He laughs like I told him the Minister for Magic was my idol, or something. "Good one!" he exclaims. "Why don't you just go get some punch over there!" he points to a large bowl of punch, which has suspicious looking floaties in it.

"Is it alcoholic?" I ask doubtfully.

"Hell yeah!" he says loudly, laughing maniacally again.

Like I said before, my brother Chris is not the most responsible human being on the planet.

"Okay," I shrug, not thinking much of it. I mean, it's not like I'm going to have more than one cup of it or anything.

The punch is actually really nice. Like… pineapple and some other exotic fruit that I've probably never even heard of.

In fact, by my third class I'm in a fantastically good mood.

By my fifth glass I decide to go see how everyone else is faring. Giggling uncontrollably (oh… my… God. Since when do I giggle? I don't think I've ever giggled in my life. I can't let Lee see me like this. I'll never hear the end of it!)

"Hi!" I greet Angelina enthusiastically. She's talking to some girl, who's even taller than her and looks vaguely familiar. They both have some sort of drink in their hand, and they're getting along like a house on fire.

"… And then," Ange says, gasping for breath; she's laughing so hard, "and then, they flew into the window!"

The other girl squeals. "That happened to me once! Well, actually it was the Chaser for the Kensington Krestals. She flew straight into the room that the Minister of Magical Sports and Games was in, having a meeting!"

Ah. The name comes to me suddenly. Clarissa Yerkin. Some famous-ish Quidditch player, who plays for the Tornadoes. My brothers know some strange people.

Alicia is talking to some bookish looking guy, about Alex's age. He better not be hitting on her. Seriously, that's like… eight years older than her. Perverted cradle-snatcher!

"… And have you read the latest book by Octavious Ruefield? No? Well, it explains the theory of _exactly_ how the Department of Mysteries think that our brains work…"

"Muggles have already figured that out," Alicia says smugly.

"Yes, yes… but we wizards have to learn about the _magic_ part of the brain. It's so fascinating, see. First they conduct a serious of revolutionised tests, and then…"

Nope. Definitely _not _hitting on her.

Time to move on. Fred and George are in the centre of the room, with at least a dozen people standing around them. I push my way through, just in time to hear something Fred says.

"And _then_ his eyes nearly bulged out of his head!" Fred concluded triumphantly.

"Yeah, Poor Snape. I don't think he realised he had it coming…"

"…The minute he decided he wanted to take on Fred and George Weasley…"

"…By actually making us concoct a illusion potion!"

"Yeah. Poor Snape when he realised what he was wearing…"

"…Which was nothing. I must say, though, gentlemen, he does _not_ have a lot to brag about down there. So ladies, (or gentlemen) if you're thinking about Professor Snape in strangely erotic ways-"

"Go for someone else. Like… sorry. What did you say your name was? Ah. Alex here! Roll up, roll up! Only one sickle to get a kiss from this handsome man!"

They'd been here not even an hour and had already managed to auction my brother off. God, they are going to become bazillionaires one day.

I pause for a moment, thinking that there's someone I've missed. I count it on my fingers. One… two… three… five… six!

Hmm. Oh. Lee.

It takes me forever to find him, and when I do not even the fact that I'm sloshed isn't enough to keep my jaw from dropping. He' s having a (what appears to be) riveting conversation with Michael.

Which is like, _way_ strange.

"Hi," I say, going up and tapping Lee on the back, in the desperate hope of saving him form my brother's truly terrifying grasps.

"Katie!" he exclaims, nearly tipping over. Oh, great. My brothers have managed to get all my friends as pissed as… well, pissed monkeys. "I was just telling your brother all about you!"

"Really?" I ask sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. "Uh huh. And he was…" he turns back to Michael. "What were you saying?"

Michael smirks at me. "Just wondering if you were good enough for my _baby_ sister."

Stupid prick. Pretending to be all caring.

"Did you _tell_ him?" I screech.

Lee looks mildly surprised. "No," he says. "I thought you did."

"Duh. I haven't been talking to him," I say, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This is bad!" Now mum and dad will know. Then they'll want to meet him. Oh no. What if they invite him over for Christmas, and he has to meet Great Aunt Tessa? I hope he doesn't meet Great Aunt 'Two-Tonne' Tessa. That would be bad. It would be her pinching his cheek the whole time, whilst Lee rubbed it and then she pinched him again. Uck.

"Well," Michael drawls slowly, enjoying my discomfort, "I was just checking to see if you can make your own choices yet. You know, seeing as how I'm out of Hogwarts and all."

I glare at him. "You idiot! You just want to embarrass me."

Michael thinks about this. "Yeah."

"So, Leroy," Michael says, smirking at me as he turns back to Lee. Sheesh. He so should have been put in Slytherin. Well, technically I reckon everyone I know should have been put in Slytherin. Except me. But I'm not too sure about me, either.

"Lee," Lee corrects, grinning back. Stupid drunkards.

"D'you want to come over and visit Katiekins for the holidays?"

Hello? What if I don't want him to come? And besides, he's my boyfriend! I should be the one to invite him.

Lee nods. I wonder briefly if he's too intoxicated to realise what he's getting himself into. I mean, a trip to my house would involve meeting my parents. I mean, he's met them before, along with the whole group. But this would involve, like, actually _meeting_ them. You know.

"Okay," he slurs, grinning at me.

I sigh. "How much have you drunk?"

"Drank," Michael corrects me, smirking. Stupid intellectual genius.

Lee shrugs. "Not that much…"

"Four goblets full," Michael answers, as if he's bored already.

I nod. Four goblets…. _Four goblets_? Hell, a Hippogriff could drink half that and still be stoned.

"Okay, I think that's enough for you," I say cheerfully, taking the cup out of his hand.

"But Katie…" Lee whines. "I'm thirsty!"

"Drink some water," I tell him heartlessly. I look at the clock, and decide we should go. I mean, it's practically three in the morning. What are these people, vampires? Normally I can barely stay awake until ten.

"We're going now," I say to Michael.

He nods, distracted. "Great. I'll see you back to the passageway."

"You don't have… what? How do _you_ know about that?" I ask incredulously I mean, here I was thinking that Fred and George were the first people ever to discover it, and then Michael just throws the term around so casually. Well, apart from those people who made the map. The ones with the kinky names. And whoever it was that decided to build the bloody passage way in the first place. They deserve a medal for thinking of something so brilliantly… _devious_. Right under the sweets shop. 'Course, back then it could have been something boring. Like an adult shop. Ick.

He laughs at my shocked expression. "Katie, Katie, Katie," he sighs. "So young; so naïve. I've known about that since before you came to Hogwarts."

"So… ten years, then?" I ask, counting on my fingers and probably doing a really bad job.

He scoffs. "Who taught you Arithmacy? Eight, moron." (Still, he took a while calculating that, and I think I saw him move his fingers. Ha. He thinks he's so clever.)

"Uh huh. How did you find it?"

"Uh… never mind," he answers, going a bit pink. Hehe. My brother's nineteen and he still blushes. What a loser.

"You probably fell through the portrait or something really stupid like making up a word and then it opened, and you didn't even realise it." I say, smirking evilly. Which is really strange, but hey. That's my brother.

"Something like that," he replies, not looking at me. "Go round up your little accomplices."

Accomplices? Accomplices for what? I mean, what does he think I _do_ at Hogwarts? By the sounds of it, he has lots of little suspicions…. Mwahahaha. I'll never tell!

…

Anyway. "Ange!" I scream at her, over the rising music. Poor Madame Rosemerta. I mean, imagine having this sort of racket every night. It's a wonder she's not an ugly old hag. Not that there's anything wrong with hags. "We're going!"

"Just a minute!" She yells back, turning back to the Quidditch person and thrusting something at her. Oh. It's an autograph book, the one she has the treasured autographs of famous Quidditch people on it, like her all-time hero Adelaide Mawson, the first-ever female Chaser on a Quidditch team to fight for equal rights (before that, the girls got a ten-second head start). But it's not as if the book isn't like, three hundred years old. Her family just passes it down… and down… and down.

She even has Oliver's signature on it, because, she informed me aridly, he'll become a famous Quidditch player one day.

The sad thing is, she's probably right.

"'Lic!" I shout over at Alicia, "we're going!"

"Hang on!"

Huh. It seems like no one wants to come back. How sad. Wouldn't it be funny if I just left them here? Just as I'm seriously considering it, Michael appears next to me.

"Don't even think about it."

Damn. Stupid ESP thingy.

When I finally manage to haul them all away, and Michael still insists on 'accompanying' us, I can tell that the party wasn't such a great idea.

I wonder if you can get charged for causing a whole heap of minors to get inebriated? If so, my brother is going to Azkaban. Ha.

"Katie," George grins, tottering unsteadily in front if me, "that party was so cool."

"Yeah," Ange agrees, then pauses thoughtfully. "Who was it for again?"

I roll my eyes at them. Seems like I'm the only one here who can hold my alcohol. Which is strange about Alicia: I would have picked here to be the responsible, mature one in this situation. But she's as gone as the rest of them.

"Did you know," she giggles, "that toilets were originally invented as a place to store your food?"

Gah. I don't _know_ these people!

Angelina suddenly screams. We all rush to her aid (well, as quickly as is possible without completely turning around and hobbling the other way) but all that's happened is she tripped on a lollypop. Seriously.

"It's stuck on my shoe," she says happily. She gets up fine enough, but after that we just keep hearing this _step… crunch… step… crunch… step… crunch_.

"Ange!" I scream after a minute. "Will you please sit down and take the freaking sugar off your bloody foot?"

"No problem," Ange obliges happily. Wow. We should so give her firewhiskey more often. I mean, she's just so… amiable. I _love_ her like this!

"Wait a minute," Lee says, stopping so suddenly that George crashes into him, Alicia crashes into George, Angelina crashes into Alicia, Fred crashes into Angelina, and I crash into Fred. "Where're we going?"

The whole effect was like Wizarding dominoes. Which is basically like the Muggle version, except in the Wizarding version they all fall over. So really, not that similar at all.

"Oh," Michael says nonchalantly, "I knew that Honeydukes would be shut, considering all the noise you made coming through."

"You _heard_ that?" Fred asks in amazement.

Michael shrugs. "Sure. Thought you were a bit, you know, wasted already, to tell you the truth."

Gah. Now my whole family will think my friends are psychopathic alcoholic addicted lunatics. Whoa, that was long.

"Let me get this straight. We're going to just stroll through the gates of Hogwarts," I say slowly, "and you think we'll just be let in? Just like that?" I made an attempt to snap my fingers, but only a strange wheezy noise came out.

Michael nods slowly. "You know," he says, "I think that just might work."

"You mean you didn't have a plan?"

"…No."

"So whats the plan now?"

"What you said before."

"I can't remember what I said before."

"Too bad, I guess."

"What do you mean, 'too bad'? You came to escort us to our little castle, and you have to do that! Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?"

"You'll be failing your duty as a brother," I mutter ominously.

Fred, George, Lee, Ange and Alicia all gasp. "No!"

"Yes," I say smugly. "And we can't have that."

"Alright!" Michael groans, and I know he's regretting ever trying to help us out. I wonder why he did it on the first place. Maybe he wanted to impress Alicia. But ew. Cradle snatcher much? "Do you have another idea, dork-brain?"

"Now I know where she gets her insults from," George mutters under his breath.

"…No."

"Well let's cross our fingers and hope for the best!" Angelina says cheerily, marching forward. "Onwards!"

Righto, then. We all follow her.

When we reach the front gate, there's surprisingly no one is guarding it. I mean, come on, people. A deranged murderer is on the loose. You don't think it might be time to up the security or anything?

"Hey look," Ange says, pointing to a large black dog that's standing near the edge of the forest. The weirdo loves animals, for some reason or another. She's like, top of her class in Magical Creatures. "Here puppy!"

"Maybe," Michael says thoughtfully, "we can devise an elaborate scheme in which we get the dog to sneak up to Hagrid's hut and steal the keys."

Lee groans and bangs his head on the fence. "De ja vu!"

"Yeah," Fred agrees, sitting back and looking from me to Michael, impressed, "you guys are so weird."

"What?" Michael and I say at the same time. Then we turn to each other and go, "hey! I said it first!"

"Wait!" I scream, launching myself on Fred. "You were there you little arsehole! You left us out there to die! I hate you! I'm telling Edward all about you! I hope he eats you!"

"Well to be fair," George says wryly, surveying me attack his twin calmly, "we did panic a bit when we thought you were dead. After all, you were under the water for about half an hour. It was only then that Fred suggested maybe we should have given you your wands."

Michael doesn't even stick up for me, the way a brother should when he learns that I was abandoned on a mattress in the middle of a dangerous lake. He just says, "whatever."

"Here, puppy," Lee says, edging closer to it.

I get off Fred and try to regain my dignity. After looking at the dog for a minute, I announce, "I'm going to call it Snuffles."

"No way," Fred objects. "That's a stupid name."

"No it isn't," I contradict, "he looks like a Snuffles."

Angelina just looks at me doubtfully.

I shrug and turn away, already bored with the proceedings. I want to get back into my bed!

Michael, stupid, stupid, Michael, gets annoyed and decides to kick the fence. Hard. Bad move. Very, very bad move.

An alarm of sorts starts ringing, and he panics.

"_Fuck_!" That was me.

"Shit!"

"Good one!"

"Crap!"

"Oh no." The last one was Fred, who's looking interested to see what will happen. I think it's sad when someone gets so many detentions they're excited at the prospect of, oh, another six _dozen_.

We can see figures hurrying towards us.

The first one is Hagrid; his not insignificant bulk hiding most of the other people that have been woken by our alarm.

The next one is McGonagall, and she looks… _frightened?_

The next one is Dumbledore, and he doesn't look amused, like he normally does when I'm called into his office.

"Katie," Michael says sincerely, "if you get expelled, and so you won't be able to graduate, will you tell mum it wasn't my fault?"

"Uh… no."

Well. That settles that, then.

"Miss Bell!" Unfortunately, I'm the first one McGonagall picks out.

All the other teachers are silent, right up until when they come up to the gate. "Fred and George Weasley! Was it _you_ who set off this alarm? I hope you know what serious matter this is. You could be expelled for this-"

"It was me," Michael interrupts miserably. He looks up at her and grins. "Sorry, Professor."

Wow. That was so… noble. I never would have believed it if I hadn't just seen it with my own eyes. Maybe now I can actually admit that he's my brother in public.

"Michael Bell?" She asks, incredulously.

"Yep."

"Well," Dumbledore says, suddenly. "To what do we owe the honour?"

"Well, Professor," Michael says quickly, "I found this students wandering the town, and being the responsible brother I am, decided to escort them back to the castle," he says pompously.

I take it back. I take it _all_ back.

"I see, Mr Bell," Professor Dumbledore says. "So you activated the alarm, and in doing so you knew that a teacher would come and collect these students and escort them back to their beds?"

Michael nods responsibly. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore's mouth twitches. "Thank you. Now you may go back to your… activities," he says. "We will take appropriate action with the students." He leans forward, and whispers, "and we'll also give them a sobering potion."


	19. Enough To Make Even MALFOY Cry

**A/N:** Hey, guys! I know, I know. I'm a horrible person and I haven't updated for a month! I'm sorry. Truly, I am. The first chapter, albeit better, was deleted, and so I had to start _all over again_. And then when I had done half I had a sort of writer's block, and I found that I couldn't go on with it. Then I had exams and loads of homework so I didn't have time… and yes, that is a reasonably long list of excuses.

The bottom line is: I'm sorry. _What more do you want_? Lol. Please R&R.

* * *

**December 21st**

It's almost upsetting to be going home for the holidays. I'm so totally going to miss the four til ten detentions every day, not to mention _cleaning the toilets_. Which, for some reason had the remains of a polyjuice potion that smelled as if it was made years ago. But whatever. At least I have Moaning Myrtle for company. Then again, even being alone is preferable to her moaning.

"I don't want to go home," Angelina mutters, packing her bag whilst gazing wistfully out at the Quidditch pitch. She's the only one that's all for the dawn practices Oliver schedules in the blizzards, when it's minus fifty degrees. And that's Celsius.

"I do!" Alicia exclaims excitedly, jumping up and down. Gah. We have to remember to stop feeding her red cordial. Not that I would ever drink it. I mean, it's made of bugs. I told her that, and the response was _amazing_. She literally _snorted_ it out of her nose, and back into the cup without leaving a _single_ drop on the table. Course, she didn't drink it again. Well, until she allowed Lee to pour her another cup and Fred switched them. But what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

Anyway. "You're just lucky you're an only child," I grumble back at her. All I've heard from my relatives in the last week and a half is how I'm a disgrace to the name Bell, and that my brothers have never gotten into such serious trouble and that they would never even _think_ about leaving the castle when they were at Hogwarts, much less get drunk.

Alicia grimaces. "I would give anything to have a brother," she says, "even _yours_."

"What are you trying to say?" I ask, leaping to the defence of them. Hey, I'm the only one allowed to backstab and abuse them. After all, it's my biological right.

"Whoa." She holds out her hands and takes a step back, discreetly looking over at Ange. "Nothing. I'm just saying, that's all."

"Sure, sure," Ange mutters under her breath, burrowing into her chest to look for something. She looks back up to see both me and Alicia staring at her. "What?" she asks defensively.

"Nothing," Alicia sighs. "You guys ready to go?"

"No," I groan exaggeratedly, flopping back down on my neatly made bed, which, for once in my life, is free of junk. You can actually see the gaudy old green and purple bedspread! (And the chocolate marks that have resided there since the time I had some cake mix and then fell flat on my face against the bed…)

"Katie," Alicia whines, still suffering the after-effects of her red cordial high, "come on!" She tugs at my hand, and it sends me sprawling off the bed. For such a skinny stick, she's awfully strong.

"Ouch." I say after a few moments. Talk about delayed reaction.

"Whatever," Angelina says, raising an eyebrow at me disdainfully as I attempt to get up, "we're going to miss the train."

"No we're-" I start to say, having managed to get to my feet and look over at Alicia's clock, "_shit_! Let's get moving!"

In case you're wondering, we have exactly three and a half (I know! Who even _buys_ their clocks that precise, anyway?) minutes until the train whistles for the last time this year and pulls out of the station.

Alicia grabs her case, Ange grabs hers and I attempt to pick mine up, except it weighs like a million tons so I drop it, resulting in a huge _oof_!

"Uh, guys?" I yell sarcastically as they leave the room, without even checking over their shoulders to see what all the noise was about, "_a little help here_?"

Okay, so I sounded a little desperate. It was just so _heavy_!

I finally get down the stairs, dragging it down the stairs one at a time. (And funnily enough hearing strange sounds that didn't sound like normal _bump, bump_s. Maybe it's special, or something. Although I might believe that a little more if it could actually lock properly and didn't have a hole the size of next week (yes, I do know what next week looks like. Professor Trelawney showed us in Divination.) in the middle of it, so I have to put enlarged band-aids over it.)

"Hello? _Hellooooo?_" I call out. "Anybody there?" Sadly enough, it echoes. Gah. I'm so pathetic.

And now I'm feeling sorry for myself. Which is even more pathetic. I'm stuck in a pathetic rut.

"Katie!" Harry sounds surprised. He's come in with Hermione, but there's no sign of Ron.

"Hey, Harry," I say casually, trying to disguise my hyperventilating. I have issues when it comes to being in rooms all alone. "What are you doing?"

I half expect him to go, "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" all mysteriously, but, of course, Harry, being Harry, just says something boring and sensible. "I'm staying here for the holidays."

Oh. Der, Katie. The kid doesn't have a home. That makes me feel sad, but only long enough to cause Hermione to glare and look pointedly at me. Jeez. Just because she wants the room to herself so she can snog Harry behind Ron's back doesn't mean we all want to see. Two-timing… pre-teen bimbo. After all, everyone can tell Ron likes her. He just doesn't have the guts to say so. Or maybe he's secretly looking at Harry, but Hermione just gets in the way. Ha. Lock up your boyfriends!

"So," I say slowly. "This is awkward."

Harry doesn't look relieved that I've broken the ice. "Yeah," he says.

"You… and Hermione… how do you think Ron will feel about this?" I ask, draping an arm over Hermione's shoulder. Or, at least, trying to. She's taller than I am by half a head.

"That's it!" She screams, shrugging me off. "Get _out_!"

Whoa, talk about bossy. Then again, that's a quality she'll need to control all her and Ron's kids, if they take after the current Weasley matriarch. I hold up my hands in a peace offering. "I'm going, I'm going. Don't get your jockeys in a twist."

"The correct term is _panties_!" She screams after me pompously, as the portrait closes on the trunk, and another muffled sound is emitted. Maybe it has feelings, only I've never payed attention to it before!

But wait… wouldn't that hurt it's feelings?

Gah, social etiquette is so hard to understand. Especially that of trunks.

"Okay," I say to my trunk, as I drag it along the corridor. "I'm going to push you off the balcony to the first floor, so I don't have to carry you all the way down." Is it my imagination, or does it make noises that sound not unlike that of a terrified hippogriff? (Not that I've ever heard one... It just seems like an appropriate metaphor.)

"Bye!" I yell after it, watching as it twists and turns in the air, eventually landing with a huge _crash!_ On top of several knights that have sharp, pointy spears. "Ouch," I say, unable to tear my gaze away from the spears. "That's gotta hurt."

Is it my imagination or does the trunk scream that it does?

I jump down the stairs, whistling whilst taking my time. "So," I tell my trunk, inspecting it for damage, (the band-aids didn't even break!) "I think we should get a move on."

It doesn't say anything, so I take that for a yes. Not that I asked it a question, but whatever. It does occur to me that talking to your trunk might not be normal, but is it normal for it to talk back? Yeah. I thought so.

It's very cold outside, and the snow is swirling everywhere and gets in my eyes, so I have to stagger around yelling, "my eye! My eye!" Fortunately, I don't think anyone sees me.

"Well," I say, through my blurry vision (the snow's melting), "that was a success."

As soon as my eyes have stopped watering enough so that I can see two feet in front of me, I look down the hill to where the train _should_ be.

But isn't.

I let out a stream of obscenities. "I can't _believe_ I missed it," I curse. "Now I'll be stuck here with Lee!"

Is it my imagination, or did the trunk just let out an indignant noise? How dare it feel sorry for him but not me?

Lee has to stay at Hogwarts because his parents are travelling to Australia, where it's nice and warm and they prefer to let their son freeze over here in Scotland rather than take him with them. It's actually like a business meeting. I mean, I see why they would prefer to go on a business meeting rather than spend time with their son, but do they have to make it so _obvious? _Evidently 'subtle' is not a word in the Jordan family dictionary.

Anyway, he did try to guilt us into letting us stay with him, but because Michael told dad that we're going out he wouldn't let him come over, much less stay the whole week and a half. Fred and George were going to invite him over, except they locked Ron in the girl's toilets with Moaning Myrtle last week for the entire weekend until I decided I should do my detention and found him, so their mum wouldn't let them invite a friend.

Alicia would have had him, except she's planning on spending Christmas day with her extended family, who have a bunch of little kids, so Lee politely declined. Angelina asked, but her parents wanted to have a 'family' Christmas, so that was that.

I have to admit, I did feel bad. I considered sneaking him in my trunk, but then Lee pointed out that he didn't think he would fit in my trunk, and besides, it smells like stale band-aids, so that put a dampener on that.

We're all having a Christmas dinner at my house, though, and going to the Weasley's for New Year's Eve. We were going to find a way to smuggle Lee out of the country (considering we live in England) but now that I'm not there to plot with, I doubt the twins will come up with an effective way to get him across the border.

I know! He can _fly_ over, using a broom! Gah, I'm so clever. And so modest.

"How else to leave this castle undetected…" I wonder aloud. I glance over towards the wood, and spot Hagrid's hut. "I could always use Fang," I muse, "but I don't think he'd like running that far."

The trunk groans, not unlike the sound of a person slamming their fist against their head. I would know. My brother wanted to know what it sounded like, so he asked me to do it.

Of course me, being me, obliged. It hurt a surprising amount, actually.

Then I catch a glimpse of Hagrid's Hippogriff's pen. "I know!" I shout. "I'll use Buckeye!"

There's an applauding sound. Huh.

I leave the trunk where it is and stomp through the very, very many layers of snow to Hagrid's hut. "Hagrid," I pant. You would not _believe_ how much more tiring jumping through snow almost as tall as you is, compared to playing Quidditch for four hours. "D'you think I could borrow Buckeye for a little while?"

Hagrid beams at me, glad that someone at least thinks he's useful. "Why, Buckbeak? Course yeh can!" He smiles toothily. "I'm sure he'd love to have yer keep him comp'ny!"

"Thanks, Hagrid. It's an _emergency_," I say dramatically.

Hagrid stands up. He's about three times as tall as me. It sucks being short. "Yeh know how to handle him?" He asks, gesturing towards his paddock. There's still no sign _of_ Buckbeak, although technically Hagrid's already leant him to me.

"Yeah, I took Magical Creatures in third and fourth year," I say, smiling reassuringly. In truth, I've never even patted a Hippogriff. After all, Professor Kettleburn was a lot more… _responsible_ than Hagrid. She only ever gave us sticky things to play with, or cute little porcupines that tried to bite you if you went within ten yards of them.

"Oh, course you'd know then," Hagrid mutters to himself. He looks down at me. "You just go'n get him, then," he tells me. "If you whistle long'n loud, he'll come."

I grin brightly, trying to disguise my shaking knees. "Thanks, Hagrid," I say cheerfully. "You've really helped me out."

"It's no problem," he answers. "B'fore you go, would yeh like a rock cake?" He holds out horrible looking things that are the same yellow as a faded newspaper and about as dry as it, too.

"No thanks." I rub my belly. "I've just eaten."

"Oh." Hagrid is visibly crestfallen, so I take one, rather righteously if I do say so myself.

I only- just barely- manage to keep myself from throwing up. I look exactly like Ron did that time he threw up the slugs last year. Luckily- or maybe not so- Hagrid doesn't notice. "Glad yer like it," he says, happily. Then he thrusts a whole box into my hands. "Here, happy Christmas."

"Oh, Hagrid, you didn't have to do that," I say, feeling guilty that I think his present was so crap. Especially because he doesn't even really know me. But maybe I'm the only one that's never spat his rock cake back out, so in that case I guess in a way I actually deserve it.

Maybe they're giving out awards for worst cooking effort at the local Christmas show?

"You go'n now," Hagrid says, patting my arm so hard that I think it might be permanently bruised, "and don't forgot to send Buckbeak back."

"I won't. Thanks again!" I back away as quickly as I can, smiling and nodding the entire time.

Buckbeak isn't in his pen, so I climb the fence and walk right into the middle of it, desperately hoping that I'm not obstructing some territorial law or anything. It'd be just my luck if I overstepped some boundary and he came crashing down, only to tear my throat apart.

Slightly apprehensive now. Images of blood and guts causing alarm bells to go ringing. Block out the images. _Block out the images!_

"Here, birdie!" I whistle three times, long and hard, and pause. For a moment I don't hear anything, but then there is a sudden flapping off wings, and a huge, half horse half eagle thing stops in front of me, rearing. It looks not unlike a taller version of Goyle, that dude who always calls me the Gryffindork. Which, really, could be any random Slytherin, but whatever.

Staring up at it, I start to panic. _Oh my God, what do I DO?_ Yeah, I don't really have many thoughts going through my brain apart from 'Get the hell OUT of here!'

Just as Buckeye comes towards me menacingly, some strange little thought (must've been leftover from my 'smart' days… no, really…) and tells me to bow. Why the hell I am bowing to a Hippogriff, I have no idea. I don't even bow to my teachers! Hell, I wouldn't even bow to the Minister of Magic. Oh… I _do_ bow to my Gran. But she's an old person, and she probably can't even see me, anyway. I've had to do that ever since I was four and I went over to her house and 'spoke back' to her when she asked me if I liked the carrots.

I hate carrots.

Bucky eyes me, then drops his head the _teeniest_ bit, as if I'm not even worthy of bowing to. I'll have you know, Buckeye, that _loads_ of people bow to me. I just haven't seen them yet.

"Glad that's settled," I say cheerfully to him. In response, he just bares his teeth… er, beak, at me. "Jeez, no need to get huffy. Um… do you think you could take me and my trunk to London?" I meekly ask, aware that it is not all that normal to be talking to a Hippogriff.

Buckeye charges at me, but just as I close me eyes, patiently awaiting my gory death, he passes by and stares in the direction of my trunk, which has sunken so far into the snow that only the very top part is visible.

"Ooooh," I say, comprehension dawning, "that's a yes, right?"

Bucky, being the clever little Hippogriff he is, nods.

So I cross the paddock carefully, making sure to give Buckeye a wide berth (hello? Have you seen the CLAWS on that thing? They're enough to make even Malfoy cry!). It's a hard slog through the snow back to my trunk, but I'm tough. I can handle it.

Unfortunately one thing I can't do, however, is drag it over the snow back to Bucky. And since he has no intention of coming over to me, I decide (very smartly, if I say so myself) to dump some things out of my trunk, so that it isn't so heavy.

I know! Why didn't I think of that before? Probably because I was in shock. You know, that it was so heavy… whatever.

The locks on the hinges unclasp loudly. The creaking as the lid is slowly opened breaks through the picturesque silence, as all the plants have died because of the Dementors and the animals have all gone south (I don't get it! I still don't see why they can't go north…) for winter. I'm expecting just to see a pile of weights or something that the twins sneaked in when I wasn't looking, or something.

What I get is far stranger. Lee Jordan, in all his putrescent glory, is crumpled in there, moaning. What. The. Hell?

"Um… Lee? You can get out now," I say, just staring at him with my mouth hanging open.

"Oh," he replies, sounding surprised, as if he had no idea how he came to be in my trunk, "what a coincidence! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Fancy that," I answer drolly. "Never would have expected it."

"Especially considering this is… still at Hogwarts?" Lee asks, taking a closer look at the castle wall, then reaches out to touch it. He wipes a finger against it, then tastes it. "Yep, still at Hogwarts," he declares, whilst I'm struggling not to throw up. (Have you seen the castle walls? They are- no exaggeration- _disgusting_. Besides, what if a different student did that every year since it would opened? Can you _imagine_ the bacteria crawling on that wall? Ew… Not to self: Don't ever, ever kiss Lee again. _Ever_.)

"That. Is. Disgusting," I note, eyeing the wall to check for alien invasions.

Lee nods solemnly. "Yep." Then suddenly, he leaps towards me and gives me a huge kiss on the mouth. "But you love it!"

"EWW!" I dance around, in between swearing violently and trying to spit out the germies. "Ew, ew, _ew_!" Just as I turn around again, I trip over my trunk and fall, so that I'm lying in the snow with my legs in the trunk. "Well. That hurt."

"You don't say?" Lee says sarcastically, not even bothering to reach down and offer me a hand up. He just stands there, staring at me as if to say 'Well?'

"You know," I say after a moment, "why were you in my case, anyway? Just a little random question, is all."

"Oh, _that_." Lee laughs and waves a hand dismissively.

"Well?" I raise my eyebrows at him expectantly. Gah. The snow is cold…

"Fred-and-George-bet-me-five-sickles-that-I-couldn't-stow-away-in-your-case," he says in a rush, then looks down at my footprints from when I was dancing around.

"I see." I reply flatly. "I guess you lost."

"No kidding," Lee says. We sit there a moment (well, Lee stands) until I sigh and give in. He's like one of those Energiser bunnies that Alicia loves. He just keeps going and going and going until you have to throw it out the window and lands in the lake, during which a merperson stabs it with their pitchfork. (But shh… she doesn't know that.)

"So… you were trying to stow away in my _school_ trunk, in order to… get to my house?"

"…Yes…"

"And you still didn't come out when I dropped it out of the portrait hole, down seven stories and down some stairs, or left it in half a metre of snow?"

"Um. No. And Bell?"

"Yeeeeees?"

"If you _ever_ do that again, I will personally set Edward on you!" He takes a step towards me, and then I have to get up, screaming.

It's only now that I notice the purple and blue bruises on his face. Heh. That's what you get for willingly being thrown down seven stories. It _does_ hurt a tad, you know.

"Okay. I'm sure my mum would simply _love_ to have you," I tell him, a touch too enthusiastically.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "As if."

"No, really!" My mum probably would take one look at him and go, "So he's sleeping in your room, then?" My dad would take one look at him and throw him out the door. As I've mentioned before, my mum is a tad ditsy, whilst my dad can get over protective… especially when he's watching Quidditch. Then it's all, "No! You can't nudge the Chaser _there_! I demand a replay!"

For once Lee just sits there quietly, whilst I decide what to do. "I've got an ingenious plan!" I yell, jumping up from the snow which has melted a wet patch through my jeans.

"And?"

"We get on the Hippogriff and fly to London!"

"We get _on_ the Hippogriff."

I nod happily. Sometimes I'm so proud of my ideas I just want to go, "And who was it that thought I'd go to special school when I was a kid, huh? Huh?"

"And _fly_ to London."

"Yep."

"And you don't, maybe, think that muggles will see us?"

Lee's looking sceptical. Oh no. Someone didn't take his vitamin K today. Sheesh. "Er, _yes_," I say. "Der. That's why we disillusion him."

"Disillusion a whole Hippogriff?"

What the hell? Why does he keep repeating everything I say? "That's what I said, der-brain."

"Well if you can do that, you're smarter than I thought, genius." He sits back and smirks at me.

"Nice to know how lowly you think of my magical abilities Mr Jordan," I tell him formally, a little hurt that he doesn't think I can do it. Hello, I got an _O_ on a Charms essay about this. I think I can do a little bit of magic.

Half an hour later, I'm ready to change my mind. Lee is standing a few feet away, every now and then giving Bucky these discreet little wary glances. Ha. He's friends with me _and_ the Weasley twins, yet he's scared of a little old Hippogriff?

I mean, I know that my original plan was to fly Bucky all the way home. But seeing Lee has presented a few problems, all of which would have been fine until he pointed them out and I realised that it really wouldn't work. I would have forgotten to disillusion Buckeye, I probably would have flown to my house even though my parents would be waiting for me at King's Cross, and I forgot that my trunk wouldn't stay on Bucky. Damn.

"Hey! I've got it!" I scream, running at Lee and dancing for joy. "Take that back, Leroy Barnabas Jordan the third! I DID IT!"

Lee is quite content to snog me outside in the freezing cold until he actually looks over my shoulder (which, unfortunately, isn't that hard to do.) "Um, Bell?" He asks, hesitantly.

I sigh. "What _now_?"

"You missed his head. And, um, claws."

"_What_?" It's true. Where Buckeye should have been (although he would have been invisible, but whatever) there was half his head and three claws.

"Look at it this way," Lee says after a moment, during which we just stand there gawking at him, "muggles will just think he's one bloody big bird that's come into contact with a radio-active power-plant and been chased by rabid wolves."

Silence.

"Thanks, Lee," I roll my eyes, "so comforting to know."

I spend the next ten minutes trying to make his claws and head disappear, but all I succeed in doing is making one of his toenails go away. Bucky just stands there quite happily, as long as you feed him a possum head every few minutes.

"Look," Lee says, shifting a bit, "I think we should really go now. The train will already be at King's Cross by the time we get there."

I eye him. "What makes you so sure that I'm taking you?"

Lee starts to panic. If it wasn't so sad to see him hyperventilating over the fact that he has to stay at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione it would be hysterical. "You can't leave me here," he says, after trying to calm himself down somewhat with the fact that I told him he could always borrow _Hogwarts: A History_ off Hermione and read that.

"Like hell I can't," I reply, really playing the part as I start to pack up my trunk. Fortunately there's not much in there, because Lee had to take almost everything out just to fit. The irony is that the one thing he left in there was Alicia's curling iron (don't ask me why it's in there; I have no idea). So _that's _why he had so many bruises. I mean, apart from the obvious ones like smashing into the stone floor from seven floors above.

"Please!" He yells desperately. "I'll do anything!"

My shoulders shake as I try not to laugh. But, being the brave soul I am, I manage to hold it in. "_Anything_?"

Lee stops his melodrama to stare at me. "I just said that, didn't I?"

I shrug. "It always seems so much more evil if the villain repeats what the victim just said. More effective."

Lee thinks about this for a moment. "Oh," he says.

But then his shoulders droop and he turns away from me, and I feel so bad that I relent. "I was only joking, you know," I tell him apologetically. When he still doesn't turn around, I tell him that I'll even sit in the front, so he doesn't have to be near Buckeye's huge beak. He still doesn't turn around.

Oh no. I'll have to say it. He's forcing me to say _it_.

"Leroy Barnabas Jordan the third," I say, taking a deep breath after saying his _long_ name for the multiple time today, "I-am-sorry."

"Pardon?" Lee asks, cupping a hand to his ear. I know now that he's not even being serious; he just wants to hear me say it and enjoy my discomfort. And also so that he can brag to everyone that he _actually_ got Katie Bell to apologise. It's like a world first, really. As Trelawney would say, it's my first step to discovering my true self… whatever that means. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I'm sorry," I mutter, kicking my foot in the snow. Stupid prick.

"I can't hear you!" He sings cheerily.

"I'M SORRY YOU STUPID ARSEHOLE!" I scream at him.

Lee looks at me and smirks, satisfied. "Okay."

I groan and stare at him sullenly. "I hate you."

"I hate you, too."

Aw. It's one of those sappy moments that make you want to throw up and throw a shoe at the television. Alicia's mum wasn't too pleased about that. Neither was mine when we had to foot the bill.

"Now," I say, getting back to business. "We'll just have to cross our fingers and hope that no little muggle people take a picture of the three legged eagle freak. No offence, Bucky." _Oh, shit._ Angelina's little warning could have come in handy, but what did I do? Forget it until it was too late. I just insulted a Hippogriff, and by doing so, basically sentenced myself to be cut into little tiny pieces. Much like he's doing to the possum heads.

Evidently the same thoughts are going on in Lee's head, too, because he slowly moves closer to me and whispers, "stand behind me. _Now_."

Gah. Sexist, or what? He thinks just because he's a guy, he can fend off the big scary Hippogriff? And also quite possibly because he's tall. But hey! He's scared of them, but he's still willing to save me. How sweet.

Buckeye, however, has no intention of ripping anyone to pieces. Well at least, not me. He sort of hisses at Lee, causing Lee to jump back and knock me over, but other than that goes back to decapitating his possum heads.

I give Lee a kiss, because, you know, he saved me and all. Well, at least tried to, before he got scared of it himself. But whatever.

"What was that for?"

"For saving me."

"Oh. Um. Right."

"You weren't saving me?"

"I was. But I figured if you died then I couldn't turn up at your parent's place all by myself, could I?"

That egotistical, self-centred _jerk_! He didn't even care if I died or not! I mean, technically he did, because he wanted to go to my house for Christmas. Still. "Guess not."

"Joke, Katie. You know, _ha ha_?"

No, shit. I've never heard of a joke before! Moron. It's not my fault I'm in a grumpy mood because we missed the train so I don't get any liquorice wands. Jeez.

"Come on, let's go," I tell him huffily. I look where Bucky's back should approximately be, and hop on. I reach down to give Lee a hand, except he can't even reach it. "Wanker," I mutter. "You should really be more fit."

"Hey!" Lee protests. "Just because you're all cranky that you didn't get liquorice wands, doesn't mean that it's okay for you to take it out on me." He says it all patronisingly, like he knows best.

_How did he know about the liquorice wands?_ I think he knows me too well. It's actually kind of scary.

* * *

When we finally get to King's Cross station, I can see that the train is already there and that very few people are actually left. It's because Lee made us take a right instead of a left, illiterate moron. We ended up almost two hundred miles in the wrong direction.

"Um, Katie?"

"What?"

"How are we supposed to land? If Buckeye flies down there, your parents will know you didn't catch the train. And it might raise a few questions."

"No kidding?" I say. It's not exactly normal to land a Hippogriff in the middle of a platform. And by now my parents would have already figured out I wasn't on the train. I guess I'll just have to wing it. "We're going down!" I scream, as Buckeye dives and my stomach rises about fifteen feet above my head.

"Shit!" Lee's never exactly been a fan of heights. Come to think of it, he's afraid of a surprising amount of things.

Bucky ends up crashing into a couple of rubbish bins, but it's all okay because he doesn't hurt himself. Lee, however, lands in one upside down, so all I can see is his legs waving in the air and hear him screaming, "_help! Help!_"

"Katie!" My mum exclaims, giving me a hug. "What an… interesting way to arrive!"

See? She doesn't even think to tell me off, or ask questions. She's just _that_ much of an air-head.

"Katie," Dad greets me gruffly, after carefully stepping around Buckeye, who's decided to taste the garbage.

"Hey," I say cheerfully, hoping that they won't notice Lee until I can get him out. At least he's got the common sense to shut up.

"Well?" Mum asks expectantly. "Who's you friend?"

I panic. "Um, what?" Yeah, great going, Katie. Use the old, I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about-even-though-I-just-flew-in-with-him-on-a-Hippogriff excuse. A timeless classic

"The bird… horse…" My mum is a pureblood, but sometimes I _swear_ it's like she's never come out of her little box before.

"_Hippogriff_, mum, it's called a Hippogriff. Say it with me now: Hip-po-"

"Katie," Dad admonishes sternly. "Who's that?" He points at Lee, whose legs are sticking straight up.

"A random pair of legs that are left there from a vampire's takeaway shop?"

"They were on that bird-horse!" Mum exclaims. "Well? Introduce us to your little friend!"

I sigh exaggeratedly; knowing that Lee's probably pissed off at me for having left it so long. I grab his left leg and try to haul it out. It's a bit hard, because he's so much taller than I am, so my mum helps.

_My mum helped me pull my boyfriend out of a bin_.

"Well!" My mum says, clapping her hands, "who's this? And why haven't I met you before?"

Lee just stares at me, doing the squinty-eye thing. Great. Now they'll think he's got a chronic eye twitch.

"Mum, Dad," I begin, "this is Lee, my-"

"Boyfriend!" Michael, who I haven't noticed until right now, shouts. "Lee is her _boyfriend_!"

* * *

I know. Terrible. Not v. good for my come-back chappie, hey? Lol. Well please review and tell me what you did/didn't like bout it. Come on, guys: it's my come-back chappie! Please? 


	20. Your Family DOESN'T Believe In Free Love

**A/N:** I know. I've taken ages _again_. I mean, it's made all the worse because of the fact that I'm on holidays now, so technically that means I should have had more time to update, now that exams are over, etc. I swear I will get on a roll, eventually… Sooner or later, anyway. And guess what? This is my _twentieth_ chapter! Woo hoo! (It'd be cool to get 200 reviews to match it…)

And thanks to all my reviewers: you guys make my day. :D I'd like to hear from you; it doesn't matter if you review every chapter or haven't reviewed once: anytime is a good time :P

* * *

**December 25th**

I open one eye cautiously and wait. I can hear no signs of movement, breakfast or various forms of drunken hangovers from last night. It must mean that the entire household is still asleep. It's sort of good, because what I'm about to do isn't exactly sanctioned.

It's so early that it's pitch black outside (which, you know, isn't exactly that strange. It's pitch black ninety-nine per cent of the time in my room ever since I blew that scary doll that went "Mama! Mama!" up against the window. It was a bummer, 'cause the doll scared the pants of Michael. Heh.).

The floorboard creaks loudly as I jump down from my bed, because it's so high (sucks for me, seeing as how I'm short and all). Oh well. It's not like anyone hears it, 'cause I can't hear anyone leaping out of bed and roaring, "_KA-TIE!_" In that way parents do when you just sigh and go, "Okay. What have I done wrong _now_?" Usually it's something like leaving a pin on the floor or a seat in a highly unfortunate spot. You know. The usual.

When I get down to the Christmas tree, there's tons of presents under it, most of which are for Chris from his buddies. I bet they're all joke items or something, like a tin that you open and a giant laughing hippopotamus pops out laughing maniacally, which makes you so scared you wet your pants. (Not that it's happened to me, or anything…)

So I guess I can hardly be blamed when I decide to test one out. I mean, it isn't for my own selfish reasons, or anything. I'm doing it purely out of the goodness of my heart; making sure my brother won't receive a shock that would give him a heart attack and tragically end his short, short life. I, on the other hand, would be much more liable to be able to survive such a horrifying surprise, as my young heart can withstand it. So, you see, it isn't for my own self-gain. I'm only thinking of my beloved brother.

The present I pick is purple with hot pink and fluoro yellow polka dots. (I think there's something about Chris that he hasn't quite revealed to us yet.) It's tied with a pretty blue ribbon and everything. So I yank off the ribbon eagerly, and slowly put my hand into the box…

"_AUGHHHH!_"

Well. That was a tad scary.

Understatement of the year.

Basically, the moment I put my hand in something slimy touched my hand. And, I mean, come _on_. What would be your first reaction if you put your hand in a purple box with pink and yellow polka dots in a dark, scary room because you were afraid of waking up your family, and then this disgusting slimy thing touches your hand? You scream. So that's what I did. I screamed… and screamed… and screamed.

Until I run out of air, but I keep screaming anyway. And do you know what happens when you run out of air but keep on screaming? A) You turn blue, B) It sounds like you're letting the air out of a balloon, C) Well, I haven't thought of one yet.

Mum was the first one to run downstairs. It's like a soon as you even cough, she's up and out of bed and offering you warm pumpkin soup. "Katie! What's wrong?" She cries, aghast.

I'm starting to feel faint from all the screaming and lack of oxygen. Those little sponge things on my lungs must be getting a good work out right now.

"Bell! What the hell?" Lee's next, being the kind and considerate boyfriend he is. He takes one look at my hand and walks out the kitchen door into the backyard, no doubt to throw up. He's never exactly had a stomach made of steel, but you would think that someone who spends as much time around spiders as he does would be made of stronger stuff.

Dad comes down calmly. After years of leaving with Alex, Chris, Michael and I, he's used to dramas- which, admittedly, are mostly ones that I've caused. But whatever. Don't want to even _go_ there. He doesn't even say anything, just stares at me placidly before taking a seat on the couch.

Alex comes down with a book in his hand, and doesn't even bother glancing my way. "Strange," he mutters. "Did you know that the snorkelgeek geese are actually a member of the duck family?"

I stop screaming long enough to convey my deep displeasure at having the attention directed away from myself, then resume it again. Still no sound comes out, and I think right about now I'm starting to get severe irreversible brain damage.

Chris and Michael come down at the same time. Chris takes one look at my hand and yells. "My present! What are you doing stealing my present? Nooooo!"

Whoa. Hypochondriac much? Jeez. It's not as if he wouldn't be doing the _exact_ same thing I am now. He's just acting as if he wouldn't, hoping to get to open one of my presents and out me with whatever strange, eccentric thing the twins have made for me this year.

Michael, however, has the reaction that tops them all. As soon as he sees me he bursts into laughter and comes up and slaps on the back so hard that I'm forced to stop screaming and have a sharp intake of breath. "See," he says pompously, smirking at me, "you only have to tap her a little."

Gah. I _hate_ him.

* * *

"Katie!" My Great-Aunt Tessa exclaims gleefully, enveloping me in huge hug.

"Hi, Two-To- I mean, Aunt Tessa," I stammer, trying to catch a breath. She releases me and then leans down to pinch me first on one cheek, and then the other.

"You haven't grown much," she coos, beaming. Then she dumps her bag and large, large fur coat on Lee who struggles under the weight. He wobbles a bit, but manages to find his balance before he completely falls over. Which is good, because if he fell over underneath that coat I doubt we'd be able to find him again.

I shrug. "Yeah, well. You know what they say. Hogwarts food isn't exactly nutritious."

Two-Tonne Tessa frowns. "Well, we'll have to remedy that, won't we… Expect to hear a Howler from me in the first week back," she announces firmly, making up her mind. She pinches my cheek one last time before following Mum and Dad into the living room.

"No one says that," Lee hisses beneath the coat, as I grab his arm and literally guide him into the lounge room to dump Tessa's bags on the couch.

"I know," I grin. "But you don't know how good Tessa's brownies are." The thought of the delicious, chocolate covered fudge brownies that seem to melt in your mouth almost make me drool… until I remember that time I saw her cat licking the pan. I mean, sure, it was _after_ the brownies had been taken out, but so what? I didn't see what she did with it afterwards. Maybe she just put it straight back in the cupboard. Shudder.

"I'm… all… good," Lee puffs, having finally gotten rid of the fur coat. "What is that, anyway?"

"It's a coat." I tell him simply, raising an eyebrow. What did he think it was? Pantyhose?

"No, retard," Lee bites back. "I mean what sort of fur?"

I have absolutely no idea. I lean forward and sniff. Hmm. Mouldy. Dusty. "I have come to the conclusion," I announce tumultuously, "that it is _fake_!"

"Yay!" Michael shouts in a high pitched voice, passing through. "Thank Merlin!"

Whatever. I have the oddest family ever.

The doorbell rings again, and Mum pokes her head through the door. She's looking a bit frazzled, like she always gets when Dad's family arrive on time and hers all pop around the time dessert is served. "Katie, can you please get that? Oh, I hope it's not Magnus and Marcella," she mutters under her breath. "Last time they came Michael ended up locking them in the disused outhouse… _However_ that happened, I don't know…"

I snicker quietly to myself as I head towards the front door. Magnus and Marcella are possibly _the_ most into each other couple I have ever met. No, really. They're worse than Alicia and George- that's how serious the matter is. It's disgusting, and a few Christmases ago, when Michael was just beginning to understand the concept of 'girls and boys don't give each other cooties' he decided to lock them in the derelict outhouse 'just to see what would happen'.

Needless to say, when we found them seven hours later, it wasn't pretty. And for that reason only, we've avoided having them over until this year, when we couldn't think of any excuses after Magnus practically invited himself. So we're stuck with them slobbering all over each other. It'll be funnier when the little kids arrive, because the adults will all run to them and shield their eyes.

"Hi, Magnus! Hey, Marcella!" I keep a cheery tone on my voice. In my family, hardly anyone says 'Aunt' or 'Uncle'. Mum likes to think that we're a 'free spirited family'; I think we just have never had any discipline in our lives. But hey, that suits me fine, so I'm not complaining.

"Katiekins!" Marcella coos, pulling herself away from Magnus long enough to greet me. What is with my family and cooing? I'm not a baby any more! Then again, they still do it with Alex, who left home years ago and has a full time job, so I don't know what I'm whingeing about. It must be a Bell thing.

"Who's your little friend?" Magnus asks, attempting to stoop down to Lee's face. He has considerable trouble with this, seeing as how Lee's less than an inch shorter than him. After trying to bend his legs the right amount for a couple of minutes, Magnus gives up and straightens to his full height.

"Oh." Remember, Katie? Ha. I forgot about Lee. "This is Lee. He's staying with us." Just as Magnus and Marcella begin to move towards each other again, I hastily jump in the middle and exclaim, "I just remembered! Mum wants you to go into the living room with the rest of the family!"

I let go of them as they walk around the corner, only to glance at Lee, who's turning green at the sight of something over my shoulder. Just in time, I look around to see Magnus hit Marcella on the butt. Ew. My family, the pacifists. If we don't believe in free love, who will?

Still in a grossed out haze, Lee lets me push him along until the fire in the lounge room. I sit against it, letting the heat warm me up again after standing at the door for what felt like ten minutes. I only hope that no one takes it into their head to Floo through it. I mean, we have a fireplace in the living room that _normal_ people Floo from, but knowing my family they'd still muck it up and end up going through my head.

There's a sudden _crash!_ In the living room and a sudden frenzy of voices. I sigh. Now the party will _really_ be full of eccentrics.

"Kay-teee!" A blur of eye blinding neon pink attaches itself to my head.

"Ah… choking…" Lee manages to pry it off me, and I can see that it's my second cousin once removed, Delicia. See what I mean? Everyone in the _entire_ family got ancient names except for my brothers and me. Talk about unfair!

"Kay-teee!" Delicia plops down onto my foot, still squealing loud enough to make a banshee ashamed.

"Um. Hi." I think I've met her once in my life, when she was about two. So about five years ago. I mean, I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning, let alone an unimportant cousin (harsh, but true) whom I met five years ago. "This is Lee," I offer, pointing at Lee who grimaces. "He's your new friend." I was trying to see if she'd immediately let go of me and run to Lee, but it didn't work. Damn.

And then, whilst I am still contemplating what to do with this girl who has suddenly chained herself to my foot, I hear the dreaded words that seal my fate. "Katie and her friend will look after the children."

"Noooo!" I don't realise that I've spoken aloud (or more like screamed in anguish) until mum pokes her head through the kitchen door.

"You alright, Katie?"

No. You just made me head-babysitter of the _Bell_ kids, no less. I mean, I hate kids. I don't know the first thing about them. If they cry I just sit there and stare at them. If they fight I wouldn't break it off; I'd give them a block so they could hit the other kid with it. I'm just not a 'child' person.

"Um, Lee just said that the Tornadoes might win the Christmas Day Cup," I lie. "And, um, you know how much I love those…"

"_Kestrels_," Lee hisses under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. Um, the Kestrels. I really want them to, um, you know. Win."

And, despite the fact that I can't lie to save myself, my mum doesn't say anything. Instead she nods thoughtfully. "Yes, I think they might have a chance," she says slowly. I mean, I doubt that Mum even has the faintest idea of what Quidditch is about, let alone know who would and wouldn't win. "Okay. The children are coming into the lounge room, okay? You'll mind them, won't you, Katie?"

I almost say no, if not for the wheedling look on her face. "Yes, Mum."

Mum beams. "Thank you! Now, if I could just remember where I put the flour…" she turns away distractedly.

"Great," I say to Lee. "I just sealed out fate. You wait. They'll be coming in, wanting to be my mate."

Lee snorts. "You'll be a poet one day, Bell." Then he bursts into laughter.

Okay. So he's not going to be much of a help until he controls his behaviour. We need a plan. I know. As soon as they come in we can tell them to go to bed, and then when lunch is ready we wake them up. They eat, and then Lee can read them a bed time story, and they can go back to bed. Then, when their parents are ready to collect them, we wake them up and hand them over. Simple. Fool proof. Ingenious.

"No! _I_ got the Magical Mantee! _You_ got the Cool Centaur! Duh!" A shrill voice says as a sudden mass of people that sound not unlike a herd of rampaging unicorns tumble into the room. "No, Drucilla! I'm telling! _Kay-tee_!"

Notice how _none_ of them can say a normal name such as mine properly, yet they can all say each other's names without the slightest stutter?

Drucilla comes up to Lee and stares at his hair. "Why do you have worms in your hair?" She asks innocently. "I had worms, once, but Mummy told me not to eat them because-"

"Now look what you've done!" Another slightly hyperactive kid screams, running into the room displaying a figurine of sorts. Upon closer inspection, I can see that it's actually Variety Valerie, a doll that was popular when I was about five. Now it's just… bizarre. "I wanted _Auror_ Valerie, and you've given me _Herbologist_!"

I mean, I can see the kid's point. Getting a Herbologist Valerie instead of an Auror is like wanting a unicorn but getting a doxy. And who in their right mind would actually buy a _Herbologist_ Valerie in the first place? It probably comes with it's own miniature Devil's Snare, pot and all.

Oh. The kid's looking straight at me. Well, it wasn't _my_ fault. I've been away at Hogwarts the whole term. Oh, wait… it was. Mum made us go shopping for all of the Christmas presents yesterday, and I'd just thrown in the first thing I could find. That means I actually _touched_ it! My hand! It burns!

"…Even a _Professor_ Valerie would have been acceptable," the kid says, shaking his head disappointedly. "I might have even allowed a Housekeeper Valerie. But, on no grounds can I accept Herbologist Valerie. You have to take it back," he tells me, and promptly holds it out to me.

"Um, look, sorry…" I begin, realising too late that I don't know his name.

"It's _Phoebus_," Drucilla informs me in an all-knowing voice. She's still staring fixedly at Lee's hair, who keeps shuffling over toward me in a lame attempt to get her to stop. But as he moves, her head moves too, and so he moves quicker and so does she. It's amusing to watch, but right now I have to get back to the situation at hand. I'm sure a nine-year-old girl won't overpower Lee… or, if she does, I don't think he'll exactly brag to anyone about it.

"Yeah. Phoebe… I think you should just keep the doll. Really," I add as he gives me a doubtful glance. "It might… um, be worth money some day." Actually, they just keep lowering in value over time, for some reason. I think mostly because nobody wants them.

"Well, okay," he agrees. Then he looks at the other kids, more of whom just appeared. "Who wants to play dress ups?"

"Me!" All the little kiddies scream, and so run off to our spare room where all the junk we've ever collected over time is stashed. 'Course, to make it all fit we have to miniaturise the lot, but as long as no muggles ever go in there (which I don't see why they would… the arm chair starts jumping up and down and trying to bite your foot as so as you step in there, so you can see why I try to avoid that particular situation as often as possible) it's all good.

After we finish playing dress ups (during which Drucilla chose to dress Lee in a short (kinda trashy, actually) pink dress with practically eight inch high purple stilettos and a permed blonde wig with blue eye-shadow and pink lipstick) it's time for the annual 'family lunch'.

And excuse me if I don't seem too excited- I've just been dressed up in a vest and musty suspenders with a badge flashing 'kiss me' in neon yellow flashing across my forehead. Unfortunately it seems like there was a permanent sticking charm there or something, because it's refusing to come off…

Everyone's all, "ooh, look at the children dressed up!" when they see the kiddies coming to the table still in their high heels three sizes too big and ugly orange mullets. But when it comes to Lee and Katie, noooo. Then they're all; "Do you think Katie's boyfriend's gay? I'm not so sure about Katie, either," and _un_subtly nudging each other. I mean, don't they think I have enough on my plate right now without being accused of being a cross-dresser?

"Katie, darling," Orlene begins (another aunt) as she passes the bowl of potatoes to Ulysses (another distant uncle). "There's absolutely nothing wrong with having a fetish for dressing in the opposite sex's clothing. Why, I myself still do it sometimes, when I'm aching to look like a male!"

There's a murmur of agreement among the adults. It seems that among the Bell/Honfridus households, cross-dressing is an apparently common thing. I risk a glance over to Lee on my right, and he looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. I bet he probably doesn't even believe them. The sad thing is, I'd bet ten galleons that everybody here is a hundred per cent serious- except maybe for my dad. I think he's just giving in to peer pressure.

"You know," the person on my left, Sol (my mother's aunt's brother) confides to me in a whisper, "I quite enjoy it. Especially during the summer- wearing a dress is a wonderful way to get some breeze down there."

This time Lee can't contain his snort, and it's so loud that everyone in the room stops their (admittedly rambunctious) conversations and looks up in surprise. "Does your family not believe in free love, Leroy?" Ulysses asks, agape.

I groan and wonder if it's possible to die from embarrassment. If not, I wish it were. I honestly would not care if a freaking _hippopotamus_ charged through the house right now with a mermaid riding side saddle with her pitchfork and swallowed me up. Anything to remove me from the situation. Now Lee's going to think I come from a family of freaks! Or, worse, conciliators!

"Um," Lee says, looking down at his plate and fiddling with his fork, "I don't know. I mean, I guess they're pretty… straight," he says finally. Then he looks up to see if we get it, but everyone's just staring at him, unable to comprehend the meaning of 'straight'. "You know. They're… somewhat old fashioned."

"He means they're fuddy duddies," Michael announces to the group, who all breathe a sigh of relief that the awkward moment is over and release a collective, "_oooh_."

Lee looks somewhat offended, but not nearly as much as he does when 'Two-Tonne' Tessa says, "so, they're anal-retentive, then?" all casually, like it's not as if she just majorly insulted Lee's parents. "Where are they, did you say?"

Lee's face is priceless. It's a mixture of 'I can't believe you just said _anal retentive_ without even cracking a smile' and 'I can't believe you just called my _parents_ anal retentive'. "They're at a conference," he tells her flatly.

The room is still deathly quiet. "I see," Orlene says eventually. "I'm guessing you're not used to such… forthrightness?"

"Well," Lee replies immediately (which is sure to get him into trouble- he can be almost as bad as I am at times), "I guess you could say that I've never really been around hippies before."

The effect is amazing. Forks drop, inhalers are fumbled for and glasses of butterbeer and firewhisky (which everyone, not just the adults are allowed to drink) are knocked over. He has officially bowled the Bell/Honfridus households for a sixer. Ha. And it's not _everyone_ who can do that.

"You know, dear," Marcella stops sucking on Magnus' face long enough to say, (after all, it's not as if the rest of the family will be game to say anything until at _least_ after they've downed a few bottles of strong firewhisky) "we do prefer pacifists. Or, failing that, flower children will do."

See? See what I am _put_ through? I send a dubious glance towards Lee, who cracks up so hard that he ends up flying face first into our home-made mashed potatoes. When he comes for air, he is actually able to say something. "Honestly," he says with a laugh, shaking his head, "hippies. They think that drug laws don't apply to them."

Bitter much?

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah. Yet another odd, _odd_ chapter. Meh. They will get better one day, I swear. It's just that I've been suffering Writer's Block (nooooo!). But I do have a few good(ish) ideas that are coming along soon, so that's a bright side. But the good news is that you didn't have to endure this one for _too_ long, seeing as how it's a fair bit shorter than the other ones I've been writing lately. 


	21. Following NATION WIDE Laws

**A/N:** I'm back! Did you miss me? No, wait. Don't answer that. :P So thanks to all the people that DID review (ie. an **_extreme_** minority of you) I really appreciate it, guys. It's nice to get feedback on your story.

So this is the last chapter for December. Woot! That's three months down, another... however many to go. So, hope you guys like this chapter, and if not, tell me why/why not. Thanks!

* * *

**December 31st/January 1st **

"So, remind me why we had to rely on your brother getting us an illegal Portkey before we could come to the Weasley's?" Lee asks, as we regain our bearings after having taken an illicit Portkey to the wood on the edge of the Weasley property. It's pitch black, so I have to feel around in the dark before my hand touches Lee's and he pulls me up.

"I told you," I reply, sighing heavily. "Ulysses got stuck in the fireplace after eating Two Tonne Tessa's brownies, and so Mum had to owl the Floo and Transportation department and get it disconnected, in case anybody came through and decapitated him. Sorry if that's an inconvenience to you," I add sarcastically. We start walking towards the lights ahead, which presumably belong to the Weasley household.

"It's just," he puffs, stepping over a large bush about the same height as me and miraculously managing to not let go of my hand, "it's just this is unnecessary torture."

"You're such a wuss. Grow a backbone," I snap, stumbling over a small log and releasing a few choice obscenities. I'm tired and cold and hungry and I don't know why I even bothered to agree to go to the Weasley New Year's Eve party. I mean, who cares? It's just another year, after all.

"I'm sensitive," Lee whines, as there's a disturbing rumble in the sky above us. Lightning flashes somewhere to the left, and it lights up the wood to reveal scary eyes. I don't know. Maybe I'm paranoid.

"No kidding," I mutter, tugging on his hand. "Let's go faster. It's starting to rain." Just as I say it, huge droplets the size of my head start to rain down on us and within moments I'm soaked.

"Duh, Bell," Lee smirks at the sight of my trying to blow a wet strand of hair out of my face, to no avail, "you should have hugged the tree."

"Okay." I stopped in the middle of the wood, with the rain pouring down our faces and saturating us, and put my hands on my hips. "Will you please let that go? Do you see me normally going around at school and hugging trees or singing in the rain or smoking dope? Or even going around kissing everyone in sight, girl or guy?"

"There was that one time-"

"Shut up! Okay, stop bagging me about my family! I get that they're retarded and odd and crazy and strange, but I'm not like them so it's all okay! I'm monogamous! So are my parents! So are my brothers. I think. Anyway, that's not the point. Just because the rest of my family are drug-crazed psychotics doesn't mean I am. Alright?" I breathe heavily and wring out the sleeve of my jacket.

There's silence for a moment, apart from the thunder and rain, until Lee says something. "Yeah, well. Why do you think I've never invited you to meet my family?"

I take a wild stab at it. "Because we're locked away at Hogwarts, and why would your parents go all the way to Hogsmeade just to see you when they could see you in the holidays if they wanted to?" I mentally smack my brain at the 'if they wanted to' part. Way to be insensitive, Katie.

Lee winces. "Well, yeah," he agrees. "But instead of dressing up as men dressing up as women dressing up as men, do you know what we'd be doing, Katie? We'd be sitting around drinking tea. Most likely from a floral tea cup and talking about the economy. _Is that what you want_? To sit around and drink tea from a floral tea cup that would most likely be pink and talk about the economy?"

I try to restrain the shudder that threatens to convulse my body. You have to understand, that mental image? Yeah, that's like my idea of hell. Still, it's only fair. I dragged Lee to meet my parents (okay, so he wanted to and hid in my suitcase just so he could. Big deal), I guess it's only right that I offer to meet his. On the other hand, drinking tea and talking about the economy.

And imagine if they asked what my parents were like! Do you think they'd react normally if I told them they frequently smoked pot, and that's what helped them deal with three somewhat outgoing children? (Alex doesn't count. All he ever did during his childhood was read. And make stupid scientific experiments like discovering why grass is green. Who even wants to know that?)

I shrug nonchalantly. (Well, as nonchalant as I can appear at the moment, considering the hellish images that are racing through my mind.) "I'd like to meet your parents." We're still standing in the middle of a clearing, it's still pouring rain the size of large Quaffles and we've still got our hands on our hips, staring at each other.

Lee's jaw drops. "What?" He stares at me in amazement, as if he can't believe what he just heard.

I nod, and water droplets go flying everywhere. "I'd like to meet your parents." I wonder briefly if the twins and Alicia and Angelina are waiting for us. Maybe they're even using binoculars and spying on us. Gah.

"No." Lee laughs, not a 'ha-ha-what-a-funny-joke' type laugh, more of a disbelieving 'you-do-not-want-to-do-this-I-am-warning-you-now' type laugh. "No, you do not."

"Yeah." I haven't really thought about it until now. I mean, before we started going out, we'd all just hang out at the Weasley's, or everyone would come to my house (which was good, because usually the 'rents are working during the summer holidays so nobody has to see what they're really like). Sometimes we even went to Alicia or Angelina's house, but never Lee's. So in a way, I'm curious to find out what sort of people brought up Lee Jordan.

"Well too bad," Lee shakes his head, which is rather unfortunate, as he has so many dreadlocks and they all spurt water at me. "Nope. Nuh uh. Not going to happen."

I shrug my shoulders sadly. "Well, gee," I say, looking downcast. "That's too bad, because here I was thinking that I actually mattered. But no, I guess I've been fooling myself. Evidently you don't even consider me your friend, like I have all these years. Do I just mean that little to you? I can't-" I don't have to rant on for too long, because Lee interrupts me sooner than I would have hoped.

"Okay!" He yells, lifting up his arms in an 'I surrender' motion. "Alright. Next Hogsmeade weekend," he promises. "I'll ask them to come down, if that's what you want."

I grin happily and leap forward to give him a hug. "But we're not going to Madame Puffifeet's," I warn him. "You'll have to get your mother to go to a normal place, where normal people go."

"That's the thing," Lee mutters. "She's not normal."

So we stand there, snogging for a while until suddenly I realise that not only is it still raining, but that the rain has turned into snow. Again. And I also come to realise that I am, in fact, cold. "Lee."

We break apart to get some air into our lungs. "Yeah?"

"Are you, by any chance, cold?"

Lee considers the question, cocking his head to the side. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I am. I think we should probably get to thew party now."

"After all," I say, as we start slogging through the snow, "I am the life of the party."

"And so modest," Lee mutters, but I pretend I don't hear him.

* * *

"Well, well, well," Fred says when he opens the door, a satisfied smirk on his face, "look what the owl dragged in."

"You haven't seen the kind of shit Errol drags in," George tells us helpfully. Leaning forward surreptitiously, he adds, "it isn't very pretty."

Lee and I follow the twins through the door into the Weasley home, which Mrs Weasley always keeps immaculate. It'd put our house to shame, if it were clean. They lead us into the lounge room, where that cool clock that has a different Weasley on each hand is.

Chris bought one for Mum, once, from Diagon Alley. The down side was that in constantly pointed to 'in labour' for me and 'at brothel' for Michael, so he had to take it back. It was kind of amusing, really, especially when Mum's fancy friends came over and fainted at the sight of it.

"And where have you two been?" Alicia demands, hands on hips as we enter.

"Or," Angelina smirks, "more to the point, what have you been doing?" She moves over to allow me to sit down, although there is no way I can fit into that teensy little space. It's like twenty centimetres, for God's sake! The ancient people who used to wear carved up whale bones to crush their vital organs might have been able to, but I sure as hell can't, and I tell her so.

"A lady never kisses and tells," I reply haughtily to Alicia, taking the opportunity to sit on Ange's lap in a purely platonic sisterly way. George hands me a cup of some suspicious looking alcoholic liquid, but who cares? Everyone else will have hangovers in the morning. I might as well, too.

"Careful," Alicia warns, nodding in the general direction of the corner of the room. "There are children within hearing distance."

"Hey!" Ginny Weasley stands up and protests, fists out. "Want to say that again?"

Alicia looks stunned. The girl is practically half her size (okay, the height of me) and she's a second year. She doesn't know whether to quite believe that her boyfriend's baby sister just challenged her to a physical fight, no less. Of course knowing 'Lic, Ginny'd probably win.

Everyone reckons Fred and George's sister is a little on the short-tempered side. I mean, seriously. No one cares if she jumps into fights or whatever! So do half the people in our school! But now I just think she's crazy. I say as much to Lee by making a crazy motion, and he nods vehemently. It's agreed- Ginny Weasley is the most deranged second year on the planet. But of course, living with Fred and George would have to addle your brains a bit, I suppose.

"There are children within hearing distance," Alicia repeats calmly.

Okay, so I could have been wrong. Maybe the shock on her face was just because she wondered if Ginny was deaf from the constant explosions, or something. Maybe she wondered that if George and Fred are so smart (I hate to admit it, it's actually kind of true) then how did they land such a half-witted moron such as Ginny for a sister?

Ouch. Ooooh. Ginny's currently savaging Alicia. And another one! That was a punch in the nose by Ginny, in case you were wondering. I wonder how long it will take for Alicia to snap. Contrary to popular opinion, Alicia does have a temper in there somewhere. I think. It's just got to be antagonised enough, and then it will suddenly erupt after being dormant for... well, ever.

Needless to say, Fred and George are not doing anything in particular about it. Apart from half-hearted attempts going, "Ginny! No. Bad girl. You know Mum told you that the next time you're caught fighting she'll stop knitting tacky maroon jumpers for you. And you wouldn't want to miss out on next year's edition, which will consist of a teddy bear and a large 'G', would you?"

See? They're encouraging her. My best friend is getting beaten up by a twelve-year-old! I will not stand it any longer! I slowly rise off Angelina, and I can almost see her eyes bulge out in relief. I mean, come on. It's not my fault my mother's home made Christmas dinner, combined with Two Tonne Tessa's brownies were slightly fattening!

"Ginny," I say in a placating tone, "wouldn't you rather go to sleep, so that in the morning you can wake up and suddenly be in a New Year? Or why don't you try to go ride the fireworks, you'll be able to see all over town-"

"Are you trying to blow my sister up?" Fred asks, incredulously. Both his and George's jaws have dropped, dumbfounded.

I shrug. "Well, in not quite as many words, yes."

"Brilliant!" Says George, leaping up and putting an arm around me. "Amazing. Great idea. Full brownie points-"

I notice Lee starts to look a little green at the mention of the word 'brownie'. I can't help it if I only told him my suspicions about the cat after he ate a dozen! Jeez. I had to eat them too, you know. And did I complain? Nooo. I mean, sure, I forgot about the whole cat thing until I plucked a white hair from the icing, but who cares? They tasted fine.

"- And," George continues, "she'll get to have a bit of fun. What do you say, Ginny?"

Ginny looks up at her brother with loving brown eyes. She's the picture of innocence, and then I look over at Alicia who is practically dripping blood. But she manages to use her wand to make herself better, so no dramas. It was all her own fault in the first place, really. Ginny was just the innocent one, the victim...

"Sure!" She beams.

"Good." Fred tells her, "wait here. I think we have a spare one in our bedroom..." He thunders up the stairs at twenty miles an hour. It's a tad odd that they have a ready made firecracker in their bedroom, especially one that's large enough for a person to sit on. But eh. George and Fred have never exactly been known for following _nation-wide-laws_.

Angelina comes up next to me. No one's really paying attention to Ginny. "Is it just me," she asks, "or are they actually planning to blow their sister up?"

I sigh and look at Ange pitifully. "It's just you," I tell her sympathetically. "Those drugs are not helping you to rationalise things, sweetie."

Ange stares at me in horror. "I do not take drugs to rationalise my thinking!" She protests so loudly that Fred calls down from his room, "sure you don't."

"And," she adds acrimoniously, "I sure as hell don't want to be called sweetie!" She bellows to the ceiling, so that I think I see thin wisps of plaster fall down. This girl sure has a set of lungs on her- which means Oliver will find her the ideal replacement for Captain next year. After all, he likes a girl that can bellow her head off and still hear complaints.

"Jeez," Fred complains, rubbing his ear with one hand whilst dragging a huge red rocket behind him with the other, "you can make a freaking banshee sound like Alicia!" With a final bump, the rocket comes off the stairs and Fred drags it outside, where I am somewhat upset at the fact that it's not raining any more. If I had known all we had to look forward to was Ginny getting sent to the moon then I would have waited for the rain to stop back in the wood. That was far more interesting.

"It's not even cold out here," Lee says in amazement, looking up at the sky and scowling.

"There, there," I comfort, patting him on the arm, "all is not lost. It's only eleven-thirty at night."

George scoffs. "It's unnatural forces, I'm telling you!" He waves his arms eerily, and the faint light from the moon makes him look like a vampire, or something. I mean, not that George is vampire. He has red hair! Vampires never have red hair; they're always Gothic. I mean, does that mean as soon as someone turns into a vampire they go, "hey! I've developed a sudden love for wearing leather and chains!"?

"George. You look like a vampire." Alicia tells him sombrely. Hmmm. Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks so. Not to self: Make sure neck is hidden away from blood-sucking vampires with red hair, who live under the pretence of being your friend.

"I have a better idea," Fred says suddenly, turning back to us. "Let's set it off at midnight."

I consider the idea without much interest. Personally, putting Ginny on it seems like a much better use of time rather than just randomly blowing it up to see what the neighbours say. Anyway, the Weasley's don't have neighbours, so that's another down side. "Why?"

"Because," Fred answers, shrugging. "Mum'd get all pissed at us if we experimented with putting people on it. Maybe next year," he adds, when he sees the crestfallen expression on my face.

"Fair enough," I reply. Just as we're all standing around uncomfortably, wanting but not telling Fred his idea is crap and we really can't be bothered hanging around outside for twenty minutes just to explode a firecracker, a loud explosion that sounds not unlike a oil truck on fire erupts, causing everyone except Alicia to leap to the ground and cower in fear.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" I yell, opening one eye as a large red and blue light explodes above my head. Oh. It's only a freaking _firecracker_. It sounded scary, okay? Like Michael on baked beans, _that's_ how bad it was.

Alicia's still standing, laughing hysterically at us. "You guys-"another burst of fervent laughter- "are the biggest losers I've ever seen!" She laughs so hard that she falls down onto the cold, hard ground, but still doesn't pause her mockery of us to even say 'ouch'.

"Your girlfriend," I tell George, who's still recovering, sprawled out on the ground, "is _unbalanced_."

George nods mutely.

"No, really," I persist, as everyone else except Alicia stands up. "That girl is neurotic. Disturbed. Deranged. Loon-"

"I get it!" Alicia shouts, putting out her hands. "God, Katie. You're being such a bi-"

"Big lovable bear?" I suggest helpfully, as yet another large firecracker, this time gold, is set off and we all wince at the noise again.

Lee snorts. "Yeah, Katie, that'd be it."

I glare at him. "Was that a hint of sarcasm I detected, Mr Jordan?"

Lee grins at puts an arm around me. "Of course not, Ms Bell. In fact," he adds, grinning mischievously, "I may have to show you just how much-"

"God," Ange groans, putting her head in her hands. "Get a room, love birds."

Well. She's one to talk. Jeez, her and Fred constantly going at it twenty-four seven. They're like surgically attached at the lips, for God's sake! "Look who's talking!" I defend. "With you and Fred going at it like rab-"

"Shut _up_!" Angelina screeches, jumping forward and attempting to throttle me. "I hate you!"

"I hate you too!"

"I hate you!"

"Oh my God," Lee groans, slamming his palm against his forehead, "you guys are _so_ juvenile. Especially you, Bell. In fact, sometimes I think you're a five year old."

"Oh yeah?" I ask, once again placing my hands on my hips. "Well if you think _I'm_ five years old, do you know what that makes you? A _cradle snatcher_! There's a law against that, right, Leesh?"

Alicia looks between the two of us meekly. Sometimes she's not sure if we're pretending or being serious- and neither am I, to be honest. She and George don't fight anywhere near as much as Lee and I. "Um, I don't know. Maybe."

"See!" I yell at Lee. "I can't believe you think _I_'m five years old! You can go to he-" It's been a long night of interruptions, and Lee adds another one to the list.

He steps forward, in the middle of my somewhat irate sentence, and kisses me. Somewhere in the house, the cool clock with the personalised hands chimes twelve, and a whole rainbow of sparkles erupt and fizz over our heads. There's even one where a gigantic red/pink heart forms in the sky, and Alicia sighs with pleasure.

"It's so romantic!" She exclaims, totally captivated by the sight of it in the sky.

I break off the kiss with Lee temporarily to examine it, too. "Personally? It's sickening," I comment. "But hey, if you like corny, I guess that's fine, too-" I let out a sudden scream as Alicia throws her entire cup of alcoholic red wine at me, especially considering the fact that I am wearing a white jumper which will now permanently be stuck with the measles.

(You have no idea how hard Wizard wine injected with extra alcohol to make you to odd things can be to get out of clothes. Believe me. One time I tipped it all over this dress my Mum made me wear when I was five, and she made me clean it with a metal scrubbing brush and bleach. _Never again_.)

"Happy New Year," Alicia shrugs sheepishly, to reveal her shoe stuck in the mud. "Sorry. It slipped."

"Happy New Year," I agree, before stealing George's cup of blackberry Firewhisky and throwing it over her. "Oops. It slipped," I tell her apologetically, before making a break for it. After all, Alicia's temper does come out sometimes- I guess there's a limit to how long it can stay dormant, hey?

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, it is a fair bit shorter than normal, so sorry about that. Anyways, it'd be nice to hear your thoughts on it, _and_ to get to 200 reviews, seeing as how I couldn't even get the seven I needed to reach the milestone for the last chapter. I'll try and update again soon:D 


	22. You Are SUCH A Bitch

**A/N:** I know. And I'm thinking you guys are getting really sick of me apologising for taking forever to update. It was my birthday, and I didn't really have time to sit down and write this, because school's started back up again… bummer. But I'm updating now! Woo hoo! Hehehe. This chapter is a tad strange, but I don't think it's any strange than some of my other, stranger, chapters. It's just strange in a different way. Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers: You guys are the **_best_**! I think I might have even just scraped ten reviews too, so even though that's not a lot when compared to the amount of people who have this on alerts/favs, it's heaps to me and I really appreciate it.

* * *

**January 1st**

I can't believe it. I swear, my jaw has dropped the whole five feet two of my length. It's just shocking. And maddening… the more I think about it, the angrier I get. In fact, I am _this_ close to going and bashing her brains out. Or at least, getting someone to do it for me…

It was a beautiful, sunny day. Birds were chirping, old men were whistling as they walked down the path, and the young children were skipping in the roads. All the muggle things- motor-vehicles, I think- stopped and gazed happily at the kiddies as they played, and everyone was singing and laughing happily whist holding hands and dancing…

Okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration. Whatever. The point is, it _was_ a good day, until I got on the train that would take us away to Hogwarts for another term. I'd lost my friends, but I wasn't all that worried. I mean, they are a bit odd, so I expected to find them in the place that I'd least expect them to be. Make sense?

Anyway, I was walking down the aisle cheerfully, happily poking my head into random cabins, frightening the first years and generally being a nuisance. Then, I suddenly came across a cabin that had a mysterious… _aura_ around it. My aunt Demelza tried to fine tune me in the art of aura detection, can't say I was much good at it…

So I poked my head into the cabin, and to my (at first) pleasant surprise, I saw that it was my fellow Gryffindors (the ones that aren't part of my group, but who I _considered_ to be friends anyway.) I was all set to greet them enthusiastically, like I normally do to anyone who I even remotely know, when I heard Jessica White say my name. And, seriously. Of _course_ you eavesdrop on a conversation when your name is mentioned. It's practically a _law_.

Unfortunately for me, I did not particularly like what I heard. Not at all.

"… Can you _believe_ that he would even go out with her? She's not even pretty!"

Her friend, Jacey, made a non-committal sort of noise which seemed to satisfy Jessica, because she ranted right on. "_And_ it's not like she's skinny or anything. What, with the amount of pancakes she eats, I'm surprised she doesn't look like an elephant!"

Okay, can you say harsh or what? She was comparing me to an _elephant_. This girl so should have been put in Slytherin. I mean, I know we've had our differences in the past, starting but not ending with that time I told her she reminded me of that Hagrid's dog. I mean, I was a first year! Who can even hold grudges for that long, anyway? But I thought we'd worked our issues out. Apparently though, Jess had not allowed herself to let go of them just then. Bitter much?

"And that _hair_. I mean, she is _such_ a tomboy. She doesn't even put any effort into her clothes."

Hans, whose bed is next to George's, laughed. "Why? You jealous or something?" I felt vaguely gratified that at least _somebody_ was defending my honour, until I remembered that Hans actually _likes_ Jessica, and was probably trying to get the scoop on her. Bugger.

Jessica scoffed. "As if! I just don't know why Lee is going out with _her_, and not me. I mean, she looks like a man for Merlin's sake…"

My brain didn't really have to time to go, 'Oh, so she _is_ jealous of me,' before I slammed open the compartment door and held my wand at her face. Yeah, a tad rash, I guess, looking back. But then again, I've never been known for my calculating actions…

"What the hell?" Jess screamed, whilst Hans looked mildly alarmed and Jacey just looked bored. I bet she'd rather have been sitting in a compartment with her best friend, who's in Ravenclaw… I think. Either way, they were in a prefect meeting, so she was stuck with Jess. Better her than me, I say.

"Take it back," I hissed venomously. Or at least as venomously as I could manage while still biting my tongue to keep from laughing hysterically at the look on her face. It was as if a small mutt had just come up and randomly peed on her leg. She was _flabbergasted_.

She gave me a look that said, '_Are you kidding_?' before glaring at me as I raised my wand. I don't think I would _really_ have set the bat bogey hex on her. For one thing, I'm not much good at it, so I probably would have accidentally permanently transfigured her nose into a bat with a bogey or something. For another, I don't think I'm _quite_ that mean. But I guess I'll never find out, because Fred happened to poke his head in the compartment at the worst (or the best, I suppose, depending on which way you look at it) possible time.

"Katie!" He cried, visibly trying to contain himself from getting down on his knees and worshipping me. He hates Jess with a passion, ever since she practically forced herself on him last year, right in front of Angelina. "What did Jess do now?"

"Hey!" Jess said indignantly, even though my wand was practically pointed at her head. "Why is it _my_ fault?" She even had the nerve to look affronted.

"Oh," Fred replied casually, "because it always _is_ your fault." He got out his own wand and twirled it through his fingers. "So are you going to tell me what you said to anger my dear friend, or should I just unleash her on you?" He leaned closer, and stage-whispered, "trust me. You don't want Katie on your bad side… I still have bruises." He lifted the arm of his shirt to reveal two _huge_ purplish-black spots that I swear I had nothing to do with.

"Too late," I muttered, glaring at Fred. If only I had reacted a second quicker, I might have been able to hex her… or at least find someone willing.

"I didn't do anything!" Jess wailed, glancing first to Jacey and then to Hans for help. The remaining person in the compartment, Brencis (I know, what sort of person _calls_ their kid that?) was fast asleep in the corner. Then, finding none, she looked over to Fred and said, "okay, okay. I'll tell you." She was ignoring me, and to tell the truth I was getting a little bored. So I might have, I don't know, taken a step back or something, figuring that Fred could deal with it.

The next thing I know, she's kicked me _in the stomach_, and bolted out the door. Just like that. No warning, no nothing. One second she's looking at Fred all coyly, and then she's just socked me.

So that's why my jaw's dropped five feet, two inches. I mean, hell yeah, it hurts, but I'm still trying to get my mind around the fact that _her foot touched me_. That there is a serious health hazard. I mean, technically, she's touched her shoes and her shoes have now touched me. You do the maths.

Fred also looks shocked. For about two seconds, and then he starts laughing hysterically at me. I mean, jeez. You'd think he'd have a little more compassion that than that. For all he knows, I could be dying of a bacterial disease _right now_. And he couldn't care less.

"That… was… so… so… funny…" He manages to say, before clutching his own stomach and shaking so that for a second I wonder is he's having a fit, or something. Hans is staring after Jess, an expression of absolute adoration on his face. Jacey's looking at Hans' drool, wrinkling her nose, and Brencis is still asleep. I swear I've never seen him awake. Ever.

"It hurts!" I screech at him, fairly put out at the fact that he enjoys my suffering. And I thought he was my friend!

"I bet," Jacey mutters. She's staring at me curiously, and I wonder why. Until I look down, and realise that I'm still doubled over and my hands are still covering my stomach. I can't help it if I have a weak stomach! I tell her that, and she heaves a sigh of relief. "Oh," she says, smiling. "I thought… you know…"

"No," I answer. Why does she have to speak in code? I can't understand normal English, let alone when people go, 'you know…' Guess what, people? I don't know!

Jacey turns the colour of a squashed tomato. "Well, I thought that… You um, might be…"

I sigh. I thought we had an open relationship. "It's okay," I tell her. "I know _exactly_ what you mean! It does hurt, but not so much any more. Good that I'm not still feeling sick, hey?"

She lets out a sigh. "Oh," she says. "So you were having morning sickness, then?"

"Well, no," I reply, slightly puzzled. "It was last night, actually. I ate some bad chicken."

"You're lucky," she says, still eyeing my stomach. Maybe she's concerned about the bruise and how it will affect my Quidditch skills? "My mum had terrible morning sickness with my younger brother." She shudders. "It was gross."

"Your mum _and_ your brother were sick at the same time?" I ask sympathetically. "That's rough."

Jacey blushes again. "No, I don't think you're getting me-"

"Oh my God!" Someone suddenly shouts, so that everyone in the compartment jumps. "Can you get any thicker?" This comment is rather rudely directed towards me. It's Brencis, and it appears that he actually hasn't been sleeping the entire time. More like eavesdropping on a personal conversation. "She thinks you're pregnant!" He fairly screams at me.

_Huh?_ "WHAT?" I scream back at him, Jacey and the entire student population of Hogwarts. "YOU THINK I'M _PREGNANT_?" It's now my turn to turn as red as five squashed up tomatoes.

Needless to say, Fred is finding all this highly entertaining.

Jacey shrugs. "It's just that you seem, um, very… um, protective of your stomach," she says, embarrassed. But not nearly as embarrassed as I am when a prefect comes into the compartment looking shocked. "What's this all about?" They yell, and everyone starts trying to explain at once, so we're all yelling and screaming at each other.

"_Quiet_!" the prefect yells, and to my horror (and Fred's glee) I see that it's the seventh year Gryffindor prefect. Bugger. "Let me get this straight. _Katie's pregnant_?"

"No!" I howl. "I am not!" If it really weren't so sad I'd be laughing. But as it is I'm _this_ close to crying. Where's a large hole when you need it?

"Detention!" The prefect yells automatically, barely seeing us. She starts talking to herself, and it's then that I remember her name. She's like the house oddball, she's constantly talking to herself and giving out weird instructions. Daisy White… Jessica's sister. Double bugger.

"That's not fair!" I tell her huffily. "I haven't even done anything!" _Besides threaten your sister_.

"What about our Quidditch hopes? You should have thought about that before you decided to start fooling around with that Jordan boy."

Oh. My. God. She did _not_ just say that.

"She did _not_ just say that!" Jacey echoes my thoughts, looking almost as embarrassed as me. The worst part is, that heaps of people have gathered around our door, trying to see what all the yelling and screaming is about. Well, now they know. There's a lot of whispered mutterings, and then I see some familiar faces push through.

"Katie!" Angelina exclaims, looking so worried that I almost start to cry. Note to self: Do _not_ cry. _Do not cry_. "What happened?"

"Are you okay?" Alicia asks, coming up and putting an arm around me sympathetically. Lee and George come in, too. Lee looks like he doesn't know quite what to do. I mean, it's just so… _weird_. Half the school's standing in the corridor waiting to find out what will happen in the next instalment of the _Katie Saga _or something.

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "Er." Awkward much?

Alicia takes control of the situation, which is slowly beginning to seem funny. I mean, I was accused by my arch enemy's sister of being pregnant which resulted in the whole school leaving their cabins and coming to see what was happing... Yeah, it's a little funny. "Everybody! Go back to your compartments!" She commands, point down the hallway. Oddly enough, they obey her, and soon no one is left apart from Daisy White, Jacey, Hans, Brencis and my friends.

"Do you mind?" Angelina asks Daisy icily. "I think you've been enough of a bitch today."

"Well!" Daisy huffs and then flounces away, presumably to accuse someone else of getting married or pushing someone over a cliff or into the path of an oncoming truck or something. She's like that.

"I would just like to make it known," I begin solemnly, to everyone left. Which is like, nine people. It's a wonder we can fit into the cabin! Actually, I wonder how we can… Anyway, back to the subject at hand. "That I am _not_ pregnant, fatally ill, turning into a elephant or running off with my next door neighbour's cat."

Fred lets out an involuntary snort, and then everyone starts laughing. It's good, because it eases the tension. Hans just looks confused. "Cat? Why would you be running off with a cat?"

Lee just rolls his eyes and pats him on the head. "Never mind. Maybe when you're older."

"Where were you guys?" I ask, sitting down so abruptly that Jacey barely has time to move before I sit on her. "You left me all alone with these guys. And Jess," I add as an afterthought. I sort of forgot about her.

Brencis snorts. Now I know _why_ he sleeps all the time… no one can stand him when he's awake! "Thanks a lot," he says, which I think is supposed to be sarcastic. Pity he can't really pull it off then.

"We were looking for you," Lee says quickly.

George scoffs. "No we weren't," he argues. "We were trying to see who could eat the most pumpkin pasties the quickest." He smirks and elbows him. "I won."

"Did not!"

"Did too…"

Alicia sighs and groans. "Boys," she complains.

Angelina nods as Fred joins in the argument too. "Do they _ever_ grow up?"

* * *

By the time we get off the train, it's practically dark. So dark, in fact, that I can't tell whom it is I'm following and guess who ends up in my carriage? I can't believe my luck is so bad. Fate is a bitch.

Stormie McNamara, Jessica White and Aaron Abbot all end up in my carriage. It kind of makes me wonder whom I was following to even end up there, but whatever. Can you say _bad luck_? And what makes it all the worse is that Aaron and I haven't spoken the entire holidays due to the fact that he's going out with Stormie (although why anyone would go out with her is beyond me), and I hate Stormie. So all in all, it's a friendly, cosy ride up to the castle. Not.

"Why, if it isn't Katie Bell," Stormie drawls, looking me up and down, and apparently deciding that my dress sense hasn't improved over the holidays, because she sneers and glares at me. "What brings you to my fine abode?"

"Your presence," I retort sarcastically. I inch over to the side as far as possible, in order to get away from Jess. She's letting off a really disgusting smell… maybe it's her when she's clean.

"Glad to know it's that riveting," she returns. One thing about Stormie; at least she knows some big words. Although, being in Ravenclaw and all, it's not exactly unexpected. Still, she's one of the 'dumber' Ravenclaws. At least, in my humble opinion.

Jessica frowns. "What's riveting?" She asks. Too bad not all of us in the carriage have such a high IQ.

Then I look over to Stormie, only to shudder in disgust when I see her and Aaron practically sucking each other's faces. I mean, _ew_! As if I wanted to see that. But then I decide, if I'm stuck in a carriage with Stormie _and_ Aaron, I might as well kill two birds with one rock. I can get Jess later. Maybe short sheet her sheets, or put golden syrup in her foundation, or magically dye her mascara green. Ah, the possibilities…

"You know," I say conversationally, looking out the window to the ever-increasing size of the castle, "your mum won't like that, Abbot."

"What?" He asks, confused. Maybe it's shocking him that I've actually spoken eight words to him. I know; I was counting on not speaking to him for the rest of the New Year. Oh well. Sacrifices have to be made, I suppose.

"You know, you being with Stormie and all." I know for a fact that he didn't dare invite Stormie over to his place, on account of how his mum would have blown a casket if he had. "She's still hung up on me, see," I explain to Stormie, who's blinking and staring at me mutinously. "We're betrothed, like all good purebloods are wont to do," I say, still talking as thought it were perfectly normal to be talking about such things, Then again, I've talked about worse.

"_What_?" Stormie screeches, turning furiously to Aaron. "You're going- to- marry- _her_?" She shrieks, pointing a clawed finger in my general direction. It's rather amusing to watch, actually. "Why didn't you tell me? I never would have agreed to go out with you!"

Well then. No wonder he didn't tell her. And I think I'll tell her later that it was when we were three, and no one apart from Aaron's mum takes it seriously. She's a bit hung up on the fact that her darling boy has 'already' found someone to marry him. I think it slipped her mind that we were three and playing 'Mr and Mrs pirate' at the time.

"You don't understand," Aaron tells her desperately. "It's not-"

"Oh, I understand _perfectly_!" She yells, throwing something that sounds suspiciously like metal against the floor. "I'm your _second_ choice! I'm second to _Katie Bell_!" It's extremely entertaining, now. Much like those shows that Alicia loves watching on the holidays, where everyone throws themselves off cliffs and dies of overdoses and get married and then get married to someone else. Very dramatic.

"No, Sugarplum!" He yells, and both Jess and I make gagging noises. It's almost enough to make me retch. "That's not how it is!"

God. Just tell the cow to rack off if she doesn't believe you, you moron! I mean, yeah, it does occur to me that what I'm doing _is_ bitchy and mean and stuff. But I have to admit that I _am_ a bit of a bitch sometimes, and it serves him right for ignoring me all week, anyway.

"Oh yeah?" Stormie yells, as the carriage comes to an abrupt halt and she falls over, because she had stood up defiantly. She struggles back up again, and I observe with interest that her hair is actually messed up. I'd never have thought it possible, previously. "Well that's how it seems!" She yanks open the door and attempts to strut out, if not for the fact that there's a huge gap between the carriage floor and the grass. She falls over into the melting snow. I'm laughing so hard I'm almost suffocating.

The three of us sit in a sort of stunned silence, until Aaron seems to gather his wits and turns on me. "Thanks a lot!" He cries. "What'd you do that for?"

I shrug. "Felt like it."

Aaron scoffs and turns to leave the carriage, before turning back and glaring at me. "You know, Bell, you can be a real bitch sometimes." Then he turns around and manages to exit without the breaking of any bones.

"Yeah, yeah!" I call after him, feeling kind of sorry for myself. It's not my fault I've had a cruddy day. It's actually Jessica's, and she just so happens to still be sitting next to me. "What are you looking at?" I sneer, and get out of the carriage. God, I hate it when I'm moody. I am _such_ a bitch. Maybe it's me who should have been put in Slytherin.

* * *

I finally manage to locate my friends, who either don't seem to notice my crappy mood or don't comment on it. We sit down at the Gryffindor table, waiting for Dumbledore to announce all the usual boring notices.

"Where'd you go?" Alicia hisses across the table.

"Hell," I mutter, feeling as though it actually was. Well, apart from the part where Stormie fell over in the snow. That was pretty funny. I'm still hyperventilating from when I laughed so much.

Alicia raises an eyebrow, but says no more because Dumbledore stands up and begins his long, looooong speech. "Students," he says, in his booming voice, "welcome back to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I would like to start by reminding you all that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, and students caught at its boundaries or in it will be persecuted."

"Bummer," I hear Fred whisper to George.

Dumbledore's gaze rests pointedly on them before he continues. "Mr Filch has asked me to remind you that any students caught with any number of the four hundred and fifty three items on his banned list will result in immediate detention."

"He's added more," George whispers, looking happy.

"All the more reason to get our hands on them, brother," Fred replies, looking just as excited. Alicia shoots them a disapproving glare before Dumbledore starts back up again.

"I'd also like to take the opportunity to remind you that the Dementors are here for a sole purpose only; that is to find Sirius Black. They will not know the difference between you and him, so I suggest it wise to stay away from them."

"My dad told me a _way_ longer version of that," Angelina murmurs. "Ending with, 'If you go near them you will not be returning home'. I mean, blackmail, or what?"

"And now, a particular person amongst ourselves has happy news that she would like to share with us." He sat down, his eyes twinkling.

I'm surprised when Jessica White stands up, looking around at everyone self-importantly. "I'd like to announce some joyous news," she begins. "I'd like to tell you that Katie Bell and Aaron Abbot-"

What can I say? I panic. So in the middle of the astonished looks from my friends, and my brain going haywire, I stand up and scream out, "it's not true! Aaron Abbot and I aren't getting married!"

Well. After that there's one hell of a commotion. Everybody starts talking and whispering and yelling, and the teachers look just as bewildered as everyone else. Only Lee, Stormie, Jess and Aaron have any remote idea about it, and Lee has no clue as to why I just yelled that out in front of the entire school. I mean, I figured that was what she was about to announce. It's only logical, right?

So imagine my surprise when I just manage to catch the rest of Jess' sentence. "-Have been named Students of the Term!"

Oh. My. God.

Being Students of the Term is a huge honour at Hogwarts. Each term two students are picked out of the entire school for various reasons and they get an award and stuff, and go on this list in the trophy room. It could be for anything- sport, academics, or whatever. I mean, I have no idea why I'm suddenly picked, or why Jess had to announce it. But then I remember that Jess is spokesperson for the committee, or whatever it is that entitles her to speak in front of the school.

And now I've just gone and screamed out that Aaron and I aren't getting married. On top of the whole school thinking for about two minutes this morning that I was pregnant. God, it sucks to be one of those people who other people always talk about- for all the wrong reasons. It also sucks being one of those people where humiliation seems to trail them like a black cloud. Ahem, me.

"You and Abbot were getting married?" Angelina screams at me over the noise. Seriously. It's so loud it's almost a riot. I mean, I know it's not cool and everything to disrupt your school meals and stuff, but it _is_ kind of cool that I can cause one in the first place. 'What did you do yesterday, Katie?' 'Oh, nothing much. Caused a riot in my school hall, the usual… You?'

"No!" I yell back defensively. "It's just that Jess thinks we were!"

"Why's that?" Lee asks next to me, smirking. It's okay for him- he's not the one who's made a total idiot of himself. Still, it's a bit odd that he finds the idea of his girlfriend marrying someone entertaining. Just a bit strange, I reckon…

"Long story," I reply.

"Ah," Lee answers. "That weird?"

"Attention!" Jess screams, practically banging her arm against the stand in order to try and restore order. Be funny if she got a broken arm, and I amuse myself with the notion until I realise that it's suddenly gone all quiet and I'm snickering to myself, with everyone around me looking at me all weird. "That's better." Her voice suddenly changes from angry to sweet and gentle. I swear that girl has a personality issue.

"Now, back to the award. Katie has been voted Student of the Term for her acceptance and helpfulness when it comes to the younger students. She's never afraid to give up her time for others, and that's why we've decided to award her Student of the Term!"

I have to struggle in order not to vomit. That is the biggest load of garbage I've heard, since, well, _ever_. I wonder who nominated me? I mean, it surely wouldn't have been anyone in second year… I never really thought I was known for my 'helpfulness' among them, anyway.

"And Aaron Abbot has been voted Student of the Term for his unwavering support for everything extra-curricular! He is a vital member for all teams and clubs, and we welcome him with open arms. Congratulations, Aaron!"

What the hell? As far as I know, Aaron's never signed up for a club in his life. He's opposed to the Duelling club, because he thinks it promotes sparring between friends (well, I think that's the whole point to Duelling Club, but whatever floats his boat). He's opposed to Gobstones Club, because he thinks it is an evil intent on capturing our minds and taking over the world. He's opposed to Quidditch, because he thinks it's a sexist sport and that it provides entertainment for blood-thirsty individuals, which is why at the end of last term he quit. Ha. Hufflepuff have to find a new Chaser, now…

For a minute, everyone around me is stunned. I mean, they've seen how I treat the kiddies. I'm not exactly the most tolerant of people in our house. Then they start celebrating, because it means I give them seventy-five house points (all of which I probably lost, anyway).

"Good job, Bell," Lee says approvingly, and he leans down to kiss me. Everyone's kissing everyone else, and I see out of the corner of my eye Daisy White, who's staring at Lee and I with narrowed eyes.

"I _knew_ she was a s-" we never get to hear the rest of Daisy's observations, because I pull away from Lee and start chasing her through the Great Gall with a spork I've randomly picked off someone's table. I mean, I don't _think_ I'll use it… But there's always a chance I'll find someone who _will_.


	23. You Want To DRUG Our Professor?

**A/N:** I really hate to say it, but I think I will anyway. You know what it's called when you have more or less 45 regular readers (a few of you have it on favourites but not alerts and vice versa) but onlysix review? **_Sad_**. Uh huh. I was going to say something else, but I don't want to sound bitter. Me? Bitter? No way! Really, I'm not… ;P

On to a brighter note, I've been meaning to say this since chapter eighteen, but I keep forgetting. I promised **Sidney** that I'd mention it was she who was responsible for reminding me to write about the drunken incident. It was also she who made sure that you guys wouldn't have to suffer through a chapter that had no relation to what little plot I have, and was, honestly, a very boring idea. So this chapter was originally going to be chapter 24, but I have scrapped the other one. Trust me, it was for your benefit. :D

* * *

**January 9th**

"What are you doing?" My voice echoes off the cold stone floors, and Fred, George and Lee all look up in surprise. I walk closer and crouch down, moving Lee's arm that is only partially covering the parchment. It's a list of some sort, and I raise an eyebrow as I wait for them to explain.

"It's… for a birthday," Fred explains hesitantly. He glances towards George, then nods. God, it's creepy how they seem to read each other's thoughts and stuff. Weird.

"Who's birthday is even around here?" I blurt out, then remember that it's Lee's birthday in something like five days. "Then why are you getting Lee to plan his own birthday list?"

Lee grins. "Nice to know you remember it."

George rolls his eyes at the both of us. "Get a room. Nah, it's for Snape. We thought, 'well, he doesn't have any friends.' So us, being the kind, generous people we are, decided to give him a surprise party."

"It's not a surprise if he knows it's his birthday," I point out. It's a bit chilly in the hallway, even though it's practically in the middle of the castle, so no wind could have come in even if there _was_ wind outside.

Fred lets out a bark of laughter, then looks towards Lee. "She," he tells him, pointing towards me, "is just so _clueless_."

Personally, I think it's a rather mean thing to say about your friend and I tell him so. "And '_she_' has a name," I remind him waspishly. I plonk myself down. Now that I know about the scheme I might as well help out. I'll get Angelina and Alicia in, as well, although it doesn't seem to have occurred to the guys that if they don't have us in on it, they'll fail.

I mean, that is really sexist and all, but it's true! I can't name one time that they've successfully avoided detection unless Alicia, Ange or I were there to help them out. Apart from that time they tried to put rose-water above the potions door to see if Snape really _was _a vampire, or that time they sprinkled garlic in all the food, again to see if Snape was a vampire, and so then _everyone_ had garlic breath, or that time…

"Yeah," Lee agrees nonchalantly. "I know." I scoff at him. I so am _not_ clueless. I know a lot more about a lot of stuff than him. I mean, I just can't think of any right now…

Anyway. Back to the point. "Why are you wasting valuable resources on _Snape_, of all people?" I mean, call me a stick in the mud or whatever, but there are _way_ better people to give surprise parties to. Like me. I'll have to make sure that when my birthday rolls around in a few months, to give my friends ever so obvious hints about the fact that I want a surprise party. But then it wouldn't be a surprise, I guess…

"Because," George smirks. "Can you _imagine_ the look on his face when the whole class starts singing happy birthday and blowing streamers and stuff?" He sighs in contentment as he envisions the image. "It'll be _great_!"

I have to admit, it does sound like heaps of fun. But seeing as how Alicia's not here to think this out thoroughly, I guess I'll have to do it. I mean, someone has to think about something other than Snape's face… eck. "And just how are you going to convince the Slytherins to do that?" I ask primly.

Fred rolls his eyes and waves a hand. "Details aren't important. Besides," he adds as an afterthought. "You're beginning to sound like Alicia."

"Gee, thanks," I mutter sarcastically. I look down at the list. _Sparklers… streamers… balloons… cake…_ "You're actually going to get the house elves to make him a cake?" I ask sceptically. I mean, call me scabby or whatever, but that's going a bit too far. I bet Snape's never received a cake for his birthday in his life! Unless it was made by his mum. But, ugh. Imagining Snape's mum is not something I particularly want to do at the moment.

"No," Lee says, getting to his feet and hauling me up with him. I'm surprised he's not thrown backwards by the weight. "We're going to make one."

"But why?" I argue, standing up beside him and brushing all the ink from the parchment off me, and only succeeding in smearing it across my white jumper. "We'll probably-"

Fred grins suddenly, and holds up a vial with a strange green coloured liquid in it, oozing as he shakes it. "Because you two might have to make some, ahem, adjustments to it." He half bows to the non-existent applause (he's sitting on the ground, so there are limitations). "I know, you don't have to say it; I'm a genius."

"Lunatic, more like it," I mutter under my breath, then raise my voice incredulously. "You want us to _drug_ our professor? As in, Professor Snape, who if he ever finds out about it will personally _skin us alive_?"

"Naw," George grins. "It's 'gainst the rules, remember?"

I glare at him. "And you think that makes him any less keen to decapitate us and then eat our limbs raw?" Yeah, I'm kind of going for the gruesome bit. Hopefully the image of Snape tucking into our bloodied and disembodied legs will knock some sense into their heads.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I hear Lee groan next to me. Hehe. I can't handle anything to do with my stomach; he can't handle anything to do with blood. I guess that rules out Healer for his career list.

"As if," Fred scoffs. "I mean, he's an evil bastard, but he wouldn't _eat_ us. Decapitating us, though, I'm not so sure…"

I scowl. "Well he didn't have a problem with threatening it after I handed in my potions essay a day late. Then he vanished it! Just like that! _Poof_!" I use hand gestures to punctuation it.

"A vanishing spell doesn't really sound like that," Lee says calmly. He thinks it's a joke. Just because he's a little potions brain doesn't mean we all are. Sheesh.

I glare at him. "And you would know?" I like to consider myself an expert on such things. After all, you wouldn't _believe_ the number of times I've had my homework/class work/major-important-essays vanished in front of my very own eyes for one reason or another. Seriously. It's enough to make me fail… fortunately I haven't yet, although there's a strong chance I'll fail my potions O.W.L. In a way I'd kind of be glad if I did, that way I wouldn't have to take it next year.

"Yes," Fred answers, pointing a finger at Lee whilst cracking up, "remember that time Quirrel vanished your essay right in front of your nose _after_ you set it on fire, spilt a pot of ink on it and gotten it stuck in the dinosaur skeleton?"

Lee grimaced. "Only too well."

I have to snicker aloud. It was a classic moment in the history of Leroy Barnabas Jordan the third. He'd been having a horrible day, because he'd lost his wand and his mother had sent him his dad's old one. So he kept getting all the spells wrong because it was shorter than he was used to, or something. And by the end of the day, when we were due to have Defence Against the Dark Arts, he was in a really crappy mood.

So he wasn't really bothering to say the words properly or anything, and somehow he managed to set his essay alight, knock over a pot of ink… And I might have had something to do with it rising in the air by itself and resting strategically on the neck of the dinosaur, and then tying itself into a bow. But he doesn't know that. Eventually Quirrel just vanished it because it was indecipherable.

Lee shoots me a dirty look. "Like you haven't had a bad day," he says hotly. "Remember-"

"I think we should go make that cake now," I interrupt. I really don't want to take a trip down memory lane at the moment, if ever. Too many scary incidences.

Fred nods in agreement. "We'll get reinforcements and then we'll go get all the other stuff. Just don't forget to put the bottle _in_ the cake. I don't care what it looks like, as long as it looks appetising enough to Snape."

"Yeah, in other words we have to put human remains on the icing," I murmur to Lee who has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Fred and George take this kind of thing very seriously, and the results will be disastrous if you muck it up.

"March on, troops!" George cries, pointing an arm out in front of him. We oblige, but after a moment he calls, "wrong way! You're going the wrong way!"

I glare at him as we pass back by the twins. He could have told us that earlier, before we inadvertently slipped in a pile of muck that I really don't want to know the origins of.

* * *

"God, that's weird," I comment as Lee tickles the pear in the right spot and it starts rolling around in the painting. "Whoever came up with that idea had a bit of a dirty mind. They probably entered the kitchens just so they could tickle the pear and-" I don't get to finish, because the house elves suddenly swarm around us, practically begging us to give them a job.

Now, I know house elf slavery is cruel, and I am only too aware of that due to various organisations and protests going on around the school, ie. S.P.E.W. But if it makes them happy, who are we to complain? Us fat, lazy humans don't have to do the work and the house elves are content. It's a win-win situation.

So I debate about whether or not to entrust the elves to make our cake. I mean, I am the _lousiest_ cake maker ever, as I demonstrated one time at Alicia's house when her muggle parents were out and I almost burnt down their house. Believe me, my parents were none too pleased about the bill. But then I remember what Fred and George will do to us if we disobey them, (like put us in the middle of the Black Lake again, only without the mattress) and quickly decide that we can, in fact, do it ourselves.

"We want to make a cake. Um, please?" Lee adds, when the elf in front of him looks about ready to cry in horror. As if the idea of us doing manual labour is unbearable. Well, that's sweet.

"No! The misses and mister must wait here whilst Binky makes the cake!" The elf squeaks, and runs off furiously, no doubt in search of a cake tin. I can't resist the urge to snort at the name. Who even names these poor creatures, anyway? It's worse than my family, practically!

"Wait!" I yell after it, so desperately that it stops abruptly and turns around. I mean, I am practically shaking in fear, thinking of all the mean, cruel, horrible things Fred and George will do to us if they find out it isn't our cake. Besides, we can't just tell a house elf to add some mysterious potion to the cake, can we? It's not like they can lie to a teacher or anything. Then again, come to think of it, neither can I. Whatever. I'm still a better option than 'Binky'.

"Is the misses wanting something else?" It asks hopefully, large eyes blinking up at me. You know how they're so short? It's practically up to my shoulder, and it's not like it's the tallest elf in the kitchen, if you know what I mean. Just another advantage of being short, I guess- being able to see eye-to-eye with house elves- literally.

"I was wondering if you would be so kind as to get _us_ the materials to make the cake?" I say, in as kind a tone as I can muster. It must have worked, too, because all of sudden Lee starts choking next to me. Prick. Just because he doesn't know I can be nice once in a while.

The elf still looks kind of downcast, but it says, "Certainly, misses. Right away!"

I wish it would stop calling me 'misses'. I mean, who does it think I'm married to? Lee? Eck. That'd be a scary sight. I guarantee only one of us would be emerging alive after a day, and it would be _me_. I also wonder if the elves think it's rude to call them an 'it'. But I don't know what it is! Is it rude to ask? I ask Lee, but he says I should probably refrain from asking until a better time when there isn't about fifty of them around us each carrying a sharp utensil around. It's a good point.

"Here you go, misses!" Binky returns with a huge cake tin and the assorted ingredients. I pick up one; looks like it'll be a blueberry cake, then. Oh well. Fred and George didn't specify what _type_ of cake it had to be- just a particular ingredient that had to be added.

"Thank you," I say graciously, elbowing Lee in his side as he starts shaking with laughter again. It puts the ingredients on a small table next to us, but then just steps back and stares at us. Particularly me. Hello, you do _not_ know the meaning of creepy until a house elf stares at you for like five minutes straight. Disturbing.

"Er, Lee and I will just make this now," I say uncomfortably, wondering if there's some sort of formality I should be observing, such as releasing it from my service, or whatever.

Binky blinks, but doesn't say anything. Just stares first at me with it's big blue eyes, then swivels its gaze to stare at Lee.

"Okay then." Lee shrugs and turns his back on it, and after hesitating for a moment I do the same. What if it's a sin to be rude to a house elf? Any minute now Dumbledore will come in with a staff and strike me down with a lightning bolt.

"Okay." I look sideways at Lee; he has about as much idea how to make a cake as me. In other words: no idea at all. "Well, did Fred or George give you a recipe?"

Lee shakes his head, his dreadlocks narrowly missing hitting me in the head (if only due to the fact that they can't even reach the top of my head…). "All they gave me was the potion."

"Well then," I say cheerfully, "we'll just have to improvise then, won't we?" I pick up a few eggs and chuck them into the bowl. It's huge; two feet in diameter, at least. After pausing for a moment, I decide to chuck in the whole carton of eggs, just to be sure.

"How about some of this?" Lee suggests, holding up some powdery stuff. It's white, so I guess it goes in the cake mixture. My mum never really let me help her cook when I was younger, on account of that time when I was three and somehow this really big cake that was due to go to some important function ended up having a whole pile of my hair in it. Not to mention the lollypop that she discovered after it had been cooked. Whoops.

"Chuck it in," I tell him, putting in the entire packet of sugar. A cake can never be too sweet, can it? I also decide to add some more white stuff, oil and vanilla shit that, incidentally, smells like vanilla. I thrust it under Lee's nose, and he recoils so suddenly that he practically falls over Binky, who's still standing right behind us, staring at the back of our heads with it's piercing blue eyes.

"You can, um, go back to your… thing… now." Lee tells it solemnly, struggling to find the right words. But it just stands there, staring at him. It's a bit like Norman Norbody with me, I suppose, except it's made a tiny bit weirder with the fact that it's a house elf, and as far as I know it's a boy one at that. Lee's so dumbfounded at the fact that a house elf seems so taken with him that his jaw drops… And the huge splodge of cake mixture I throw into it leaves him spluttering.

"What'd you do that for?" He yells, spitting the disgusting brown sludge all over the elf. It's like hail, just pelting the elf on the head. It doesn't even blink, for God's sake! It doesn't flinch, either, even as it sees this one particularly large ball coming right towards it…

I shrug. "I felt like it." Then I grab another glob- it's so sticky that I practically have to shake my hand just to get it loose- and smear it all over his face. Or at least I would have, if it weren't so far away. Instead I only manage to get his neck, but that's okay too, because it's still damage.

"Okay, Bell, you asked for it," he growls, still shaking the glop out of his hair. I swear, he cares more about his hair than I care about mine. I mean, sure, the sticky stuff _is_ slightly gross, what with all the lumps and all in it. But it's just _cake mixture_. Or at least, it's supposed to be. I'm not sure if that's how it's turned out, though. Then he smears a handful of it right into my hair. Instead of blonde, my hair is now a sort of muddy brown, not unlike something you would find on the nature strip.

"Ew!" Okay, so maybe I _do_ care just a tad about whether it gets in my hair or not. I can't help it. It's like this in-built gene or something.

Then we start having an all-out war, using cake rocks as ammunition. I even manage to get a couple in his face, which is a pretty amazing feat if you consider the fact that I practically have to strain my neck in order to throw it that high. He gets a lot more rock cakes on me, though. Whoever said that guys always let the girls win are wrong- or Lee has clearly never heard of being 'gentlemanly'. Is that even a word? Whatever. Even if it is, I doubt Lee would even know what it means.

I've backed Lee up against the cake tin, which is actually only a disadvantage for me seeing as how it means he can just dip his hand into the 'batter' (I'm not quite sure if it deserves the title) and slug it at me. I, on the other hand, have to scrape up the bits left over from old cake-mix-balls and make them into new cake-mix-balls.

So, seeing as how I'm being pelted and very thoroughly losing, I do the only thing I can. I tackle him.

Remember how I said the cake tin was at least two feet in diameter? Yeah, it's a hell of a lot deeper that that, and so we both end up in it. Remember how I also said it was so sticky that I practically had to shake the blood out of my hand in order to actually get it to fall off my hand? Yeah, it's kind of working like glue. In other words, Lee and I are stuck. In a cake.

I mean, yeah, an _uncooked_ cake, but still.

"Look at it this way," I say to Lee, who's still struggling to get out of it, even though I'm half on him, half in the cake, "I bet no one else in the entire school can say they've been stuck in a cake."

Lee takes a moment to stop his desperate escape and glares at me. "Yeah, and I bet they've never been chased by a cat that looks like Lockhart, been stuck on a mattress in the middle of a lake and been befriended by the Giant Squid or have set off the school alarm system whilst drunk. I also bet they've never had-"

"Shut up," I say with an exaggerated sigh, and kiss him. I mean, how else is he ever going to shut up? Just go on and on and on about how I've made his life a living hell, and how he wishes that he never met me, blah blah blah. I've heard it all before, from a rather wide assortment of random people. Believe me, there's nothing that hasn't been said about my personality- and it wasn't all sunshine and chocolate cake, either.

"I'm telling you, George, of course they'll have- oh, _eww_!" Someone exclaims, interrupting us. I squint with one eye up in the general direction of the voice. It's Alicia; apparently the twins thought it wise to involve both Angelina and Alicia. A good choice, too, seeing as how Lee and I haven't exactly made much progress with the cake, being, um, busy and all.

"You're making out on Snape's _birthday cake_!" Alicia points out, clearly horrified.

"We weren't making out," Lee scoffs, rolling his eyes. "We're trying to get out of this stupid cake."

George can't help himself. He starts sniggering, sending the house elves around him scuttling away. His sniggers generally sound more like snorts, and are often very alarming. "Yeah," he mutters. "You look so innocent too."

God. Just because he has a dirty mind. "A little help here?" I ask sarcastically, as they make no move to help us out of the mixture. Alicia moves forward, her eyebrows still practically meeting her hairline, and grabs my hand, attempting to haul me out.

I'm eventually out of the cake mix, but not before Alicia's fallen over with the exertion. "God, Katie," she says, staring at me in surprise, "lay off the chocolate, why don't you?"

Bitch. I don't even eat that much. I mean, apart from her secret stash and all. Just because I only have to _look_ at a doughnut and then I gain five pounds. Stupid skinny twit-

_Crash! _It seems that when George ever so kindly tried to help Lee out of the mixing bowl, he somehow managed to knock the bottle of green potion into it. "Shit!" He cries, making an overwrought gesture of helplessness.

I raise an eyebrow. "So? It's still in the cake, isn't it?" Looking down at my fingers, I amuse myself as I press my fingers together, observing with interest that they stick to each other stubbornly, and I can't actually pull them apart.

"It's supposed to be carefully added," George explains. "Not just shoved all in. And… why is there an egg carton in here?" He looks up at us curiously.

Oops. Well, how was I supposed to know you were supposed to add them all individually? "It's not like I'm sort of professional cake maker," I tell him defensively.

Alicia rolls her eyes, and looks at the sludge pointedly. "We can tell," she says bluntly.

A sudden beeping noise emits from George's wand, and he glares at us. "Anybody happen to know a cooking charm?" He asks. Judging from his expression, it isn't happy news. "We have to go _now_," he commands.

Okay. You know how Oliver is like, a tyrant on the Quidditch Pitch? That's how Fred and George are when it comes to playing jokes or pulling a prank that will humiliate, anger or aggravate someone. They're like freaking _dictators_! They can't just let it go. Everyone thinks that the Weasley twins are laid back and stuff, but guess what, people? _They're not!_

"Binky knows a cooking charm!" The elf that's been staring at Lee for the last half an hour announces suddenly, to the immediate relief of George and apprehension of both Lee and I. Who knows what it will do? It might put a love potion in there, for God's sake! I don't particularly fancy the idea of drooling after Snape for a week. That might just be more than enough to make me crack.

"Why thank you, er, Binky," George says nicely to it, wrinkling his nose at the name. Ha- so George _isn't_ incapable of being nice to anything, as I had previously suspected.

The elf just snaps it's pointy little fingers, and hey presto! We have a cake! And okay, it has various egg shells and bits of glass from the potion bottle sticking out of it, but I'm sure we can pass it off as icing sugar. At least, the Slytherins will believe us, I suppose.

"Follow me, privates!" George bellows, pointing a finger towards the door. Lee, Alicia and I all struggle to pick up the cake, which Binky has generously decorated with red and gold icing, at Lee's urging.

Let me tell you, hauling a cake that feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds out of the kitchen door? Yeah, it's freaking hard. So I can't really be blamed when I trip, and my bit of the cake hits the ground with an astonishing _thud_. But hey, it's all okay, because of the fact that the cake is so hard, it doesn't even break. Just… _mooshes_ a little.

"Bell!" George yells, turning to look over his shoulder at the bedraggled party of cake-carriers. "Why do you always have to be so clumsy?"

I smirk back at him. "Have I ever told you about that time I was at the Burrow and I fell down the stairs into Percy's bedroom-"

"Okay!" George says, raising a hand and looking distinctly frightened. "I get it. Just try not to do it again," he says, glaring at me.

"Aye aye, Cap'n," I grin. It's just so satisfying winding him up. It's satisfying winding anyone up, really. I get more satisfaction out of it than is probably healthy, come to think of it.

George ends up leading us to the dungeons, which, even I have to admit, probably isn't the smartest idea of all time considering the fact that Snape's office is just down the hallway and we're in the midst of Slytherin territory. Not the safest place to be when you're a Gryffindor, nonetheless.

As Angelina and Fred have demonstrated. Because when we come across them, they're huddled against the wall, rocking softly back and forth and drawing their knees up under their chins. They stare up at us with wide, frightened eyes. It's amusing really, because I've never really seen either of them at a loss for words, and here they are practically scared out of their wits.

"What happened?" Alicia asks shrilly, glancing around, practically terrified and all she's seen is the results of what's happened to them. I, on the other hand, am finding it more entertaining than horrifying.

Fred looks up mutely. His body convulses in a shudder, and he slowly drags a hand up towards the general direction of Snape's office. Then, as if the memory is too scarring to deal with, he quickly draws it back around his legs and rocks back and forth again.

Lee frowns. "Um, Snape?" He guesses.

"Way to go, Captain Obvious," I snort. What else would have terrified them like this? Hahaha. Maybe they saw him undressing… Ew. That just doesn't even warrant _thinking_ about.

It's Angelina who finds her voice first. "He-" she croaks, making a helpless gesture in the air. "We saw… we saw _him_… and… _her_…"

"Bloody hell," I snap in a disturbing imitation of Ron, slapping her on the cheek. Well, it works in all those movies Alicia makes me watch. Maybe it'll work in real life.

She doesn't even seem to notice. Which I'm kind of grateful for, because I was already tensed and ready for flight. Angelina doesn't respond kindly to such mistreatment. Even poking her in the back during a really boring class can earn you a broken foot. And then you're forced to let it heal on it's own, or get your mum to send you some sort of potion for it, because you're scared of what the nurse will do if you go to her and say your best friend broke your foot.

"They were-" she breaks off, gesturing wildly. "Against the wall… _just there_." The hoarse whisper of her voice doesn't disguise the terror, and even I lean in, eager to hear more. "And then, we saw who it was-"

This is it. The moment of reckoning. The moment we find out who it is that did the disastrous deed.

"-It was _Professor Sinistra_! And Snape!" Her voice has risen to hysterical levels, and she can't go on. Alicia bends down to comfort her, and all of a sudden Fred speaks up, taking over the story.

"She was giving him what he thought was a bloody good birthday present," he snickers, then sobers as the image comes back into his mind and he shudders again.

I have to shudder too. What a thing to see! God, I wouldn't be surprised if they were scarred for life and ended up in the mental ward of St Mungos before they're twenty.

It's Lee who breaks the silence first. "Well, are we still going ahead with our plan?" He asks, determinedly up-beat. He shows Fred and Ange the cake. "Anyway," he adds, checking his watch- since when does he wear a watch? - "We have potions in approximately ten point nine minutes."

"Give me that," I snap, and practically snap his wrist so I can get it an angle where I can see the watch face. "We have potions in…" And yeah, it does take me a while to tell the time. After all, what's the point of learning if you can just get someone else to tell you? It's not as if people look at you all weird when you go, 'Excuse me, sir, but I don't know how to tell the time. Can you please tell me?'

At least, they didn't look at me weird that time I said I couldn't tell when I was eight. I'm not sure, maybe it's changed now.

"We have potions in four minutes," I announce with a sigh. I mean, now that I know what I do… We might be in for a rather interesting potions lesson.

"Battle Stations, men!" George shouts, because even he can see that his brother is in dire need of normality. I just raise an eyebrow, and then he goes, "And women."

Okay. So the final plan is: Lee and I will miraculously produce the cake when Snape is all settled after having removed himself from the company of Professor Sinistra to teach. George and Alicia will decorate the room as quickly as they can, and light the candles. We weren't going to let Fred and Ange do anything, because after their traumatising experience, who could really trust them not to just hex him permanently there and then? But then Alicia relented, and they have to organise the students to sing 'happy birthday' to him. Don't know how they'll manage the Slytherins, but hey, that's their problem, not mine.

And then Snape will be so happy because of the endorphins flowing through his blood, and his party, that he'll forget to give us detention and even forget to set us any work. Well, that's the plan in my head, anyway. Not too sure about anyone else… No one can call me naïve, can they?

So after a while, more students wander down to the classroom to wait for Snape. After a few mutterings of, 'Where _is_ he, anyway?' (To which the six of us respond by nudging each other and almost puking) Snape appears, and doesn't even notice the rather large cake, which we're all trying to hide.

George and Alicia push through first, trying to discreetly decorate the room in scarlet and gold. I mean, we're banking on the fact that Snape's brain is too caught up with thoughts of Sinistra to even _notice_ our little escapades.

Then come Lee and I, somehow managing to smuggle the cake in whilst Snape's back is turned to the board. Fred and Angelina come in last, filling the students in as they all file in. From what I can tell, most of them agree as long as we start it. Which, you know, is fine. Just because none of them have backbones or anything. Sheesh.

So finally Ange and Fred come in, and the door shuts behind them. I give George a wink, and that's the signal as Snape turns around. But just before he does, Alicia looks at me, horrified. "Katie," she hisses, "what happened to your face?"

I'm at a loss to what she means. Then, as I itch at my face, it occurs to me.

Those blueberries? Yeah, they _weren't_ blueberries.

I'm allergic to blackberries. Like, _way_ allergic.

Shit.

But in that instance, Snape turns around, and so Lee and I produce the cake as everyone bellows, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you smell like a monkey, and you look like one too! Hip, hip, hooray!"

And, okay, the look on Snape's face? Yeah, it ain't pretty.

* * *

**A/N:** So the next chapter will be on the same day, about the after-effects of Snape's birthday party. They're not necessarily going to be pretty, either, much like Katie's face with her allergic reaction. :D Anyways, please click on the little purplish/bluish button in the corner… 


	24. SOME People Like Katie Bell's Cooking

**A/N:** Yay! An update! Thanks to all my reviewers: you rock my socks! Lol… This chapter is a fair bit shorter that the last one, if you consider the fact that it was more than 6000 words. Never fear, this one is still pretty long… :D

* * *

**January 9th  
**

You'd never have guessed it. Apparently Snape isn't as cool, calm and collected as he first appears. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he has a rather livid ride, a bloody mental livid side that is dangerous when provoked. And it also seems that Severus Snape doesn't like surprises. Not at all.

"_What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?_" He screams, leaving even Fred and George gaping like fish. The force of the air coming from the man's throat practically blows poor skinny Alicia to the other side of the room.

I mean, who even screams in Italics? Seriously, that's how he said it. As if it were written in Italics. He really has some anger management issues. I don't know why Sinistra would even go for him- okay, stop that thought _right_ now.

"_Who is responsible for this? I will personally make sure they never set foot in this castle again!_"

_Can_ you ban someone from going to school because they threw you a birthday party? I ask Lee, but he says it isn't likely. In any case, the look on Snape's face when he sees us whispering as he is trying to display his rage is not a pleasant one, to say the least.

"_How dare you! And the fact that the rest of you would go along with such idiocy! I will personally make sure every single person in this class is punished!_"

Okay, can you say harsh or what? He's even sinking so low as to threaten his own house with punishment. Speaking of that, I wonder how Fred and Ange managed to get the Slytherins to go along with our plan? It was pretty much a given that all the Gryffindors would go along with it, with the possible exception of Jess White. She still seems to be harbouring a grudge towards me about last week…

"_I will personally decapitate whoever it was that came up with such an insolent and disgusting display of rule breaking and stalking…_"

Wait. _Stalking_? I've never stalked anyone in my entire life! I mean, yeah, _I've_ been stalked, but I haven't been the one doing the stalking or anything. Oh no! This might go on my record. One more thing to add to the rather long list of offences. At this rate, I think I might even be surpassing Chris. I've already passed Michael, and Alex didn't have any offences _to_ pass.

"_Who was the mastermind of this abhorrent and tasteless imprudence?_" Snape snarls, resting his loathing gaze on me a microsecond too long for comfort. But it's nothing compared to the length of time he spends staring at Fred and George, who grin and wave back innocently. Still, I think even they're surprised at the venom with which he responded to his birthday party.

Jess White raises her hand. Ever noticed how the tattle always seems to come from within your own forces, never from enemy lines? "Sir," she says, with all seriousness, "I think I know who it was."

The Slytherins start snickering amongst themselves. They can't dob, because all they know is that the Gryffindors did it. Besides, they seem to be having more fun watching us get caught slowly, rather than by their own hands.

Snape stops his ranting for a moment and curls his lip towards Jessica. "And pray tell me, Miss White, who might that be?"

Jess looks revolted, but I do see her eye shift towards me and the tiniest smirk appear on her face. "It was-"

"Ooh! Cake!" A Slytherin suddenly squeals, upon seeing the large mound on the desk in front of Lee and I. He stumbles up, knocking over his stool, his cauldron- the whole damn table, in fact. It's interesting to see that at least _someone_ appreciates my cake-baking efforts. Take that, all you snobby associates of the family. Some people like Katie Bell's cooking.

He rushes over, and instead of patiently waiting his turn and asking me to cut it or whatever, he just digs his hand in and literally starts filling his gob with the red, gold and brown muck. "Mmm," he says- I think it's actually that Quidditch player, the one that looks like the Neanderthal- "not bad," he says, with an appraising glance towards our cake.

As you can imagine, after that it doesn't take long for the rest of the Slytherins to get the same idea embedded in their teensy tiny little brains, and within minutes we have a full on _swarm_ of snakes, each vying to get more cake than the last.

Funnily enough, it's Brencis- the one who always seems to be asleep; it appears that Snape's wrath _is_ enough to keep him awake- who moves towards the remains of the cake first. And when he goes to eat cake, he eats with gusto. I've never seen him eat before (which, really, could be considered a good thing) because he's always too late for breakfast, sleeps through lunch and I guess sleeps through dinner, too.

Odd that he's not what you'd call skinny, then. I guess we've found out why- his remarkable penchant for blackberry cake, topped with red and gold icing.

Oh, yeah. The blackberry thing. Alicia keeps sending worried little glances towards me, and even _I_ can see that the rash is spreading downwards. It's already coming down my arms, and I can only imagine what my face must look like. Oh well. I'll delay going to the hospital wing until I start hyperventilating. I don't want to miss the action.

Snape's still screaming, only I can't really hear him because of the buzzing sound in my ears. I can make out a few words, such as '_deplorable_', '_abominable'_ and '_I deserve to be Headmaster after this_'.

If you ask me, he's just _slightly_ delusional. Just a tad…

"Katie, this cake is really good," Angelina mumbles at me, crumbs spilling out of her mouth as she reaches for still more cake. The entire Slytherin and Gryffindor population (at least, the people in the room) are stuffing their faces to the max with our 'concoction', except for Lee and I.

For a moment, I smile around at everyone as I see them enjoy it, and even go so far as to reach for a bit myself, until I remember three very important things.

There are blackberries in it. If I look like a stuffed pig fresh out of the oven at whatever-holiday-it-is-they-eat-pigs, then imagine what I'll look like if I actually _eat_ the bloody things. Not a good mental image, people.

The cake itself was not exactly made in what one might call the most hygienic of circumstances. Eg, the eggshells, egg cartons, and various assorted utensils that are embedded in the cake. The Neanderthal dude from Slytherin appears to have just discovered this particular fact, as he is now choking on what looks to be a long, silver spoon.

There is a _potion_ in it, okay? A green one and everything. Also a potion that was made by the infamous Weasley twins, _and_ one that was intended for Severus Snape. Would you seriously willingly take something with a potion meant for a bastard that everyone hates like Snape?

And then there's the whole thing with everyone's germs in it, on account of how no one bothers cutting up slices, but instead they're just grabbing chunks of it by the handful. After all, you never know where the Slytherin's hands have been.

"Lee! No!" I yell at him as he, in an apparent moment of extreme idiocy, goes to reach for some cake. Does he not remember that _he_ made it? He has, like, _zero_ cooking skills. Does he want food poisoning as well as inevitable decapitation?

I mean, I don't know about him, but I'd like to keep my legs for the next year, at least.

"Oh, wait a minute!" Alicia stops stuffing her face for a second to call after Fred, who, in his sugar-fuelled high, has picked up a particularly large sparkler. But, as he lights it with his wand, Alicia's face falls and she finishes, "It's only for decorat-"

Too late. There's a huge explosion, and bits of- well, _everything_- go flying everywhere. There's cake, streamers, a potion that Snape has already prepared, before class, and even what looks to be someone's scarf. Why they'd be wearing it down here, I don't know. I mean, yeah, it's cold- but what are they, warm-blooded? I ask Alicia, but she just screams in frustration and goes back to picking bits of lacewings from under her nails.

Jeez. Just because _she_ is worldly experience and I've never left England before. Well, unless it was to go to Hogwarts. Because I'm pretty sure it's not in England… Note to self: find out exactly where Hogwarts is positioned, so then I can go around and tell everyone and it won't be a secret any more.

Anyway, after the explosion, it's chaos. Kids are screaming, Snape is screaming, the sparrow that somehow flew in is screaming. (Well, chirping. _Whatever_.)

I don't know who starts it first, but someone blows a party whistle, and then everyone is blowing party whistles and yelling and throwing streamers at each other. It's kind of amazing, really, because it isn't actually Slytherins versus Gryffindors- the snakes and lions are teaming up. If it weren't so horrifying it would bring a tear to my eye, really.

Snape looks even more disgusted than Lee, which is somewhat amusing. He looks like he's just been bested in a potions competition by Ron Weasley, or something. Which, I have to admit, is a rather entertaining notion. After all, everybody who's anybody knows that the only way he would ever pass potions is if Hermione personally took the exam for him.

Which, unfortunately for Ron, is probably not going to happen in this lifetime. Or ever, really.

Oh. George just threw something at the ceiling, which was loosened by the explosion, and now it's falling in on us. I mean, what, did Salazar Slytherin _really_ believe that just because his house was pureblood they were invincible? This is just another example of why he never managed to take over the world, or even attempt it like Voldemort. He had no common sense.

I mean, yeah, in this day and age, when Voldemort's supposed 'right hand man' has just escaped from Azkaban, I really shouldn't be joking about it. But hey, _somebody_ has to comment on his stupidity. Really, I can't believe he thought that stone ceilings would hold up on their own. Actually, I can't believe he didn't put reinforcing charms on it. Even _I_ think that's dumb!

Which, you know, is saying something. After all, I've never exactly been the brightest haystack in the needle- wait… I mean stack in the hay. Whatever.

Getting off track. Snape takes one look at the former ceiling, and yells, "Get out!" An order which everyone ignores, of course. After all, they're having fun. Who would _not_ rather get out of a room with a grumpy, possibly murderous teacher compared to having a fight in a potentially lethal dungeon?

Um, me. As my dad always said: safety in numbers, no matter if the roof is caving in. Also, so much for this castle supposedly being the safest building in the Southern Hemisphere. One little nudge from a pyromaniac (I don't have proof, but Fred _did_ have a person-sized rocket in his room. That is grounds for suspicion in my book) and the dungeons come crashing down.

They should _technically_ be the most stable rooms in the entire castle, seeing as all the prisoners would have been kept in here… I don't listen in History of Magic often enough to _know_ if the founders four had prisoners, but it seems likely, if Salazar Slytherin was as stupid as I think he was.

"This is _so cool_," George says emphatically from next to me, gazing in wonder as the object of his loathing- the potions rooms- fall down around his feet. He grins and puts a finger out to catch some dust. I'm not quite sure how there is dust from crumbling bits of stone, but I'm not about to question it. I don't want to lose my 'smart' reputation, after all.

I follow his lead, by putting a finger out to catch the little wisps of stone. But you know what happens when _I_ put my finger out, don't you? Instead of some nice little bits that are so soft you can hardly feel them, half a bloody brick falls onto my hand, resulting in a large _crack_. And there goes my finger.

"Hey, Bell," George says conversationally, pausing to throw said bit of brick at a particularly large Slytherin's head, "what's up with your skin? Have you got, you know, a terminal disease or something?"

I look down at my broken and bruised hand to see that the rash has spread, and I'm now covered in large yellowish-green spots. Is there such thing as a magical allergy? Because I think I have it. I sincerely doubt that muggles get this sort of reaction from blackberries. Then again, they're probably smart enough to be able to tell the difference between blackberries and blueberries.

"No, George," I reply scathingly, my pride slightly dinted by the fact that I apparently look like I have a terminal disease, "it's an allergy. To, um, blackberries."

"Didn't you put blueberries in the cake?"

Okay, I am _so_ confused right now. I have no idea if we put blackberries or blueberries or even freaking purpleberries into the cake. All I know is that I'm allergic to one of them, and it just happened to be the one I put in the cake. I also now that right now, I am finding it harder to breathe than is probably normal.

Bummer.

Then again, I could have inhaled a lot of stone. But that doesn't really seem likely, as I would have noticed, because with my luck it would have been huge chunks.

"I think we should probably go now," Alicia comments, wincing as a huge chunk of ceiling falls in, so there's a hole in the middle that we can see up. If there were a class above us, then the people would have fallen through the hole, crushing everyone's bones and resulting in a painful death.

Good thing there isn't a class there, then.

"You know," I say, as everyone's heads swivel to watch the corner cave in, "that's really sounding like an excellent idea right now."

Another whole piece of stone falls down, but still no one moves. Snape, bless his cold little shrivelled heart, is still in the classroom and still screaming at us to leave. Only we can't hear him over the crashing of the rock. So all I can see is his mouth opening and closing, and Fred is doing voice-overs.

"Yes, I know I'm a moronic git. I've never had the chance to flourish, see. My home life was terrible… My parents wouldn't provide me with the basics, such as shampoo. In fact, they wouldn't even let me out of the house, which has resulted in my dead-for-three-days complexion. My brother liked to hang off my nose, which explains why my nose is frequently mistaken for an elephant's trunk…"

Hahaha. Truer words were never spoken. I squint my eyes and tilt my head a bit, and I can actually see that Snape's nose? Yeah, it really _does_ look like an elephant's trunk!

"What are you looking at?" No sooner than the words are spoken, Lee suddenly grabs my shoulders and pushes me down. I mean, yeah, I appreciate the heroic gesture and all, but did he have to hit my head on the candle of the cake whilst he was at it? That's what you call ironic…

"Oops, sorry," he tells me sheepishly, giving me a hand up while I gaze admiringly at the huge rock which very narrowly missed my head. Which, you know, would have been a bit sad if it had actually hit. Then again, I wouldn't have to do my Defence Against the Dark Arts essay that's due next week… _as if_ I can do three feet! Alicia's already done it, she reckons it's the easiest assignment we've ever had.

Well guess what, Alicia? Just because you can go on and on and on for hours about little freaking pixies doesn't mean we all can! In fact, I can only think of two things to say about them at the moment. One: they are blue. And really, really ugly. Like, as if they're so hyper they rammed into their cage and their faces were permanently squashed as a result.

"Oh, bugger," I hear Fred say, a little way away from me. I turn around to see what he's talking about, only to be hit in the head with it- literally.

The entire roof is crumbling now, along with the walls. It's awesome- like being in a really old building that's collapsing. I'm just about to comment on it to Lee, except he says it first and then both of the twins look at each other and sigh, hitting him on the head.

Jeez. Just because they're smart little evil geniuses.

"Out! _Now_!" Snape just manages to finish his little screaming rampage, before the entire room falls down on us. Well, what's left of it, anyway.

It's dark. There is an incessant pressure on my hand, which is going to cut off my circulation at any moment, and I have just swallowed a whole pile of stone dust. Yippee.

"Katie?" The voice is muffled, but I think it's Lee. Or maybe Ange. Can't tell, really… I'm not saying that Angelina sounds like a man, or anything. Well, yeah, I am. But in a good way, of course… She'll kill me if she ever finds out I said that.

"Yeah?" I reply, spitting out various assortments of dust, exploded cake and even what feels like bits of scarf. When I get out from under half a tonne of rock, I am seriously going to make sure the scarf-wearer is incapacitated for the rest of their life. Of course, knowing my luck, it's probably a green and silver scarf that is currently blocking the oxygen from my lungs.

"If you don't get your elbow out of my ear right now…" Oh yeah. Definitely Ange. She only threatens me because she's a bazillion inches taller than I am, _and_ older than me. I don't know why that's such an advantage in these circumstances, but it is.

"Okay, okay…" Getting my elbow out of Ange's ear proves to be something of a challenge, especially when I hear a yelp from someone somewhere near my feet. I hope it was Fred, and that I kicked him in the shin. It's all his fault we're stuck under a pile of Stone-Age bricks, anyway.

"_Who just kicked me in the head?_"

Oh, shit. The unmistakable voice of Severus Snape (you can't just say Snape, his full name is so _catchy_…) greets me. I just kicked a (suspected, and only by three-quarters of the student population at Hogwarts) Death Eater in the head.

Now my shoe will be covered in grease forever. On the bright side, I'll never have to clean my school shoes as long as I live. On the down side, my shoelaces were wet from all the cake batter, and untied, so they would have just slapped Snape in the face. Resulting in him not exactly being charitable with his actions towards me… On the bright side, I'll be able to tell everyone that those red lines on Snape's face? Yeah, I made them!

"It wasn't me!" I blurt out, realising too late that by saying that, I was practically admitting saying, "Yes, it was I who kicked you in your god-ugly head! What are you going to do about it?" … Well, I'd have liked to say that, anyway.

"Miss Bell?" The thing about Snape is that he doesn't have to yell to get across how angry he is. He just has to lower his voice and hiss. Like a Snake. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was one of those people who talk to them. You know, a Parcel-tongue… Present-mouth… Whatever. One of them, anyway.

"Er…" Should I admit that it was me? It's not like he doesn't know it was, anyway. Oh well. Before I can decide, my mouth makes the decision for me. "No!" Good one, Katie. Lie to a scary teacher with scary hair and an even scarier face. That's a smart move.

Not.

You know that moment when your faith in humanity is suddenly restored? When you just gape and go, "Oh, so there _are_ people out there who care about things other than getting the latest broom or winning a Quidditch match or seeing other people get in trouble!" When someone does something so nice it's sickening, and then everybody else follows?

"No, Professor, I did it." It's a voice that sounds irritatingly familiar, like one of those people that have a high priority on your 'To Hit' list. You know the kind. The one person that you can't stand to listen to for more than three seconds without walking away and going, "Wow, what a loser!"

In my case, it's Jessica White.

I can't believe it. Why does she keep coming up in my life? Can't she just leave me alone and go back to her- well, whatever it is that she does when not making my life miserable. And here she is saving my arse- an arse that she thinks looks like a man's, in any case. (Don't ask. It was a particular conversation I overheard not that long ago… I was scarred for life.)

"No, Professor, I did it!" Another voice mimics. Soon everyone is shouting, "No, Professor, I did it!"

Hahaha. I bet Snape's so confused he doesn't know what to believe. In fact, I have a mental vision of him emerging from the rocks, squinting against the light (because, after all, everyone knows he's a vampire) and screaming, "Everyone kicked me in my god-ugly head! But only one person kicked me!" And then he goes mental trying to figure it out. Yeah… I'm really liking that idea right now.

"Any survivors?" The tone is brisk, and it's clear enough so that I know it's not from under the rocks. In fact, that voice also sounds irritatingly familiar…

It's George who figures it out first. "_Percy?_" He asks incredulously. Then he groans. "Figures you'd be the one to pull us from a twisted wreckage of mass proportions."

Er, okay, George. That's normal…

"Oh." The other voice is flat. "It figures that my entire Quidditch team would be strewn amongst a collapsed building! Now they won't be able to play in the next game! I'm calling it off!" The next thing I hear is the frantic footsteps of Oliver Wood, obviously rushing to find Madam Hooch or something.

He is _so_ going to die of high blood pressure. Well, that and malnutrition. He won't even let me eat a freaking pancake. I told him that they're essential for life, but for some reason he didn't believe me…

"You forgot Harry," Alicia croaks, from somewhere near my armpit.

"Where did Wood go?" McGonagall asks, and I silently cheer. She can just lift all the rocks by magic, we can all come out unscratched and go on to our common room to relax before dinner.

"He rushed off, selfishly leaving these poor people in need of rescuing," Percy answers primly. He is _so_ going to be murdered. Well, that and he'll die of high blood pressure as well, because he won't get Minister of Magic because he'll actually work for it.

"I sent you two down because I trusted you. Obviously you can't be trusted to comfort a fellow housemate…" McGonagall says to him.

I can't hear Percy's response, but it sounds something like, "The Quidditch match was _months_ ago, honestly…" I hear you, Percy. I hear you.

"You take that section, and I'll take this section… I trust you know what charm to use?" McGonagall asks, but Percy is evidently still sulking because his muttered reply is too low to hear.

Soon I can hear the sounds of rocks being lifted, and people gasping for air and crying, "Light! How I love thee!" You know. Just generally being grateful, and kissing the hem of the robes of their rescuer.

But even though they're free, we're not. I think it's pretty much only Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, Alicia, me and, of course, Snape that's still under. And quite possibly Jess White, too, because I can't hear her piercing voice yet.

"Mr Weasley! Why haven't you released these students yet?" McGonagall demands, making annoyed little noises.

"Well, er, I don't know the spell," Percy admits sheepishly, and I can hear Fred and George crack up laughing. They'll never let him live it down, now. I almost feel sorry for poor old Percy. Except, you know, he's Percy.

"Why didn't you say so?" She says, aggrieved, and promptly mutters something under her breath that causes all the rocks on top of us to float in the air.

Of course, I _have_ to hit my head on one as I stand up. Jeez, McGonagall. You'd think that she could make them _all_ float eight feet in the air. But apparently not.

As everyone congratulates each other on not dying, I see McGonagall walk over to Snape. Naturally, I sidle up, hoping to hear something interesting.

"What's that on your face, Severus?" McGonagall asks, glancing at the angry red welts directly across Snape's face. The welts that I put there. The welts that Jessica White took responsibility for.

Speaking of her, I guess I should go… I don't know. Say thanks? She's standing in what used to be the corner, brushing non-existent dust from her robes. "Uh… thanks," I say awkwardly. Is there some sort of thank-you gesture I should use? I've never really had to say it before.

She arches an eyebrow at me. "That's okay." Then, as if she's just dismissed me, she goes back to brushing dust off of her robes.

I turn to go back to my friends, who are looking over towards me and Jess excitedly, clearly expecting a fight. But then I whirl around, surprising even Jess who was obviously watching me go. "Why'd you do it? It's not as if I care what Snape thinks of me." That was a subtle hint that Jess is a teacher's pet and she should really just get over Snape and hate him like everybody else.

She shrugs defiantly. "I didn't do it for you, if that's what you mean." It's not, but I'm not about to correct her. Some other sucker can tell her that we hate her and she should really stop kissing the teacher's robes if she knows what's good for her. "I- I felt sorry for you," she says, changing what she was about to say.

I smirk at her. "You felt sorry for me?" It's a new one. No one's ever said that to me before.

She glances away. "Yeah. So what?"

Well. Why did you feel sorry for me? I can't really say that, though, because she's made it clear that she doesn't want to talk about it. Well, then, I won't. "Okay. Well… thanks." I nod at her, then turn around. She is so strange.

Fred looks disappointed when I go and stand next to him. "How come you didn't have another fight?" He asks, scratching his head.

I shrug. "I felt sorry for her. After all," I half-smirk, before my allergic reaction suddenly decides it wants attention and cuts off my oxygen supply, "everyone knows I could beat her with my irreverent sense of wit and intellect." Then I promptly pass out.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh my God, how quickly did I update? Anyways, I meant to say this last chapter, but I forgot. I wrote a new little one shot (okay, so it isn't exactly little…) called _In Cold Blood_, if anyone feels like checking it out. It's about Alicia, but be warned: the general opinion seems to be that it's depressing. Don't worry, it won't make you want to jump off a cliff or anything… It's not _that_ bad.

Okay, so next chapter Katie meets Lee's parents. I haven't written it yet, but I've planned it in my mind… So, unfortunately, it will probably turn out the complete opposite, but that's okay. Don't forget to push the little button on the way out… :D


	25. Lee's Mum Just Called Me FAT?

**A/N:** Sorry I've taken so long guys, my computer went mental _again_ and so I lost the chapter, and had to type it up again. Grr. Oh well. I didn't actually get that many reviews for the last chapter, but I got a fair few for other ones, so thanks guys! I really appreciate the feedback. :D

Okay, is it just me or does FanFiction seem a little screwy lately? I tried posting this like a bazillion times last night, and it wouldn't work. This is about the fifth time I've tried to post it tonight, and guess what? It finally worked! ... And now it's not letting me put in the liney things to seperate the paragraphs. Grr. Okay, well, I'll put up '0000'. Sorry guys, best I can do... I'm guessing it might not be updated for a while otherwise.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

**January 14th**

Is it illegal to read other people's mail? I hope not, because if so I have a high-security padded cell at Azkaban waiting for me right now. And I wouldn't be able to get out like whats-his-name did, because I'm not smart or crazy.

"Katie!" Alicia's sounding shocked as she looks over my shoulder. Ha, like it's hard. Anyway, I'm reading Lee's letter from his parents. For some reason or other, he and the twins haven't shown up yet, and I thought the owl looked like it wanted to get rid of it's dreadful burden. So then I relieved it of it's package, with full intention of placing the letter next to me and not giving it another glance…

Yeah, right. So I might have been a tad curious about why his parents would send him an owl like two weeks after the holidays, when they could have just seen him. Oh, wait. They dumped him on us for some country on the other side of the world. Oh well. So would I if I were them.

"What's up?" Ange asks all cheerily, like she so doesn't know we have double potions first up tomorrow. Seriously, we get in that room and Snape glares at me for ten minutes straight, rubbing his red marks that clash with his dead-for-three-days complexion, and then growls out an order. Then he goes back to staring venomously at the six of us- mostly me, because of the whole fainting-in-his-class thing.

Sheesh. You'd think he'd actually care that I passed out because of a severe allergy, but according to George he was all, "How _dare_ she faint in my class! Hasn't she done enough to me already? She's making my pathetic existence even more pathetic!"

Of course, I have my doubts about the last line. It doesn't really sound like something Snape would say. _Wretched_, maybe. But I don't think he'd say pathetic twice.

"What're you-" Fred begins, then he looks over Ange's shoulder, who's looking over Alicia's shoulder, who's looking over mine, and he snickers. "Did little Leroy get a letter from his mummy?"

Whoa, can you say harsh or what? Fred's just jealous because his mum practically stalks him, and Lee's mum practically doesn't know how old he is.

Which reminds me. I'm pretty sure it's Lee's birthday today. And- oh, _shit!_ I forgot to get him a present, because I kind of figured I still had months left to get one. But I think I was confusing his birthday with mine. I am so stupid. If I didn't come top of the year in Defence Against the Dark Arts back in first year, I would seriously go get a tutor.

Except the only person who's older than me that I would actually consider asking is Oliver, and he would probably spend his time drawing brooms rather than taking notes on how to remove your opponent's bones.

"'Dearest Leroy,'" Fred says dramatically, reading aloud from the parchment while clutching his heart and looking pained. "'Your father and I are pleased to report that our business meetings have gone well, and we should be returning home to England today. We have also decided that you should meet us in Hogsmeade today, as a celebration for your birthday. Unfortunately we can't stay long-'"

"Thank God," George mutters.

"'-So we would like to meet for lunch, rather than the customary evening meal.'" Fred snorts. "Who even says 'evening meal'? They sound like wankers to me."

That's a bit harsh when you're talking about your best friend's parents. It's not like _I_ would call Alicia's parents morons, even though they totally are on account of that time they went ape at me because I set their thing-that-cooks-bread on fire. How was I supposed to know it _automatically_ cooks the bread? And I would never call Ange's parents losers, even though they pretty much are because one time when they were trying to dress the muggle way her dad wore a kilt.

"Who's a wanker?" A voice asks from behind us, and we all whirl around in surprise. I hand him his stupid yellow coffee cup- no coffee in it, I'm not _that_ nice- and grin awkwardly.

"Um, Cedric Diggory!" I yell, pointing him out as he passes our table. He always comes in handy just at the right moment. Cedric just gives a kind of weird look and scurries away as fast as he can. Poor kid. It must suck being afraid of a bunch of teenagers the same age as you.

"Yeah, he is a wanker," Lee agrees, sitting down next to me. He pulls the piece of parchment out of my hand and examines it.

"Well?" Angelina finally prods, after what seems like hours of silence. "What does it say?" She's the only one I know who could say that and not smirk. I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not, but whatever. It's true.

"It-" Lee tries to choke out, but he shakes his head and takes a big gulp of coffee. It's like his lifeline, or something. When you're that addicted to coffee that you turn to it in dire situations, you know you might be just a little addicted. One day, I am so going to give him de-caff just to see the withdrawal symptoms.

"It's from my parents," he says after a moment of gazing at the letter in horror. "They want to meet me at Hogsmeade today."

"Oh," I say, after winking at the group surreptitiously, "is that all?"

There's a deliberate pause, and Lee suddenly asks, "Why were you winking?" He raises an eyebrow at me, calmly setting his coffee cup down.

"Winking? What? I wasn't winking, I swear! It was- I have a severe eye twitch!" I burst out, turning around to the others in a desperate plea for help. Needless to say, they don't and I'm kind of stuck in a verbal rut. God, I hate being a bad liar. I have the lie all planned out in my head and then I open my fat trap and it never comes out the way I want it to.

"Right." Lee doesn't look convinced. "You know you're coming with me, right?"

"_Excuse me?_" My jaw's dropped, and I think I've set a new record for highest eyebrow raise. "If you think that I have some sort of obligation to meet your parents because I'm your girlfriend, you have another thing coming, buddy, because I have news for you! I am _not_-"

Lee's voice cuts through my semi-feminist rant. "No, retard. You _want_ to meet them, remember?"

No, actually, I don't, Lee. As if I would want to! Maybe I was wasted when I said that. Maybe it's all in his teeny tiny little brain, and I never really said anything like that. It was probably more along the lines of, "Lee, your parents scare me as they are the ones responsible for raising you and look how you turned out. I never want to meet them as long as I live, and oh, by the way, Fred thinks your parents are wankers."

Yeah. 'Cause _that_ would've gone down a treat.

"New Year's Eve? We had that fight-"

"Another one?" Alicia cuts in with a sigh. "You guys really need to go to relationship counselling, because at this rate you are going to-"

"-And it was raining and cold, and you were all, 'I _want_ to meet your parents, Lee!'-"

"-Have an aneurism before you're twenty, or one of you will-"

"-And then I tried to talk you out of it, but you wouldn't listen. You just kept yelling at me, didn't you accept a drink from your brother? Because that might explain-"

"-Poke the other's eye out with a sharpened spork."

When Alicia says that, everyone shuts up and just stares at her. I swear, that girl has some serious issues, not the least of which is her remarkable fixation on sporks. I mean, yeah, they're a cross between a spoon and a fork, they have a cool name, but come _on_, people! It's a freaking _utensil_, for God's sake!

"Er, don't worry, Leesh, the only time I'll be poking Lee's eye out with a sharpened spork is if he makes me go to Madame Puffifeet's to meet his parents. Although," I add as an afterthought, "it'll probably be a pink spork in the shape of a heart, and I'm sure Lee will like that."

Lee glowers at me. "You wanted to meet them," he bites out, "so you will."

Hmm. There's a note of finality in his tone, so I resort to drastic measures: sticking out my tongue. "You can't make me," I say in a sing-song voice, which causes the surrounding students to groan and clap their hands over their ears.

Okay, so I'll never be crowned 'Miss Hogwarts Talent'. I get that. Can't they just leave me alone already?

"I can make your brother make you," he replies smugly. Bastard. Still, he could get the wrong brother- it's not like Alex could make me do anything, his glasses would probably fall off his nose and he'd run away crying.

There's no other option. I'm going to have to suffer through it, and _if_ I make it out alive, I can beat Lee with a brick later. Only kidding- that would be too lenient.

"Can't Ange and Alicia and Fred and George come too?" I whine. Maybe if I adopt a _really_ whiny tone, he'll be all, 'Just _shut up_ already! Stay here, I can't take any more of your whining!'

"No! I have to, um, clip my toenails!" Fred bursts out, desperation creeping into his pathetic little voice. Grr. Now I'll need to two bricks.

"And I have to, um, help him!" Angelina says, looking distinctly panicked. She nudges Alicia, who was sort of staring off into space with a terrified expression on her face.

"I have to dig a hole," Alicia says solemnly, even though the idea of dirt disgusts her. Sometimes I wonder why she's a Quidditch player, until she actually gets _on_ the broom, and I go, "Oh, that's why," as she gets like three goals in a row.

It's only George left. Will he bail out on me as well? "I just don't want to go," he admits, shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry, all the good excuses were taken."

"Looks like it's you and me, Bell," Lee says cheerfully, as though the idea of having someone along somehow makes the whole ordeal more pleasant.

"Yay for me," I mutter miserably. Not even the temptation of pancakes in front of me is enough to make me look for the silver lining. Since when do clouds have silver linings, anyway? The only lining of a cloud I've ever seen is purple, and I don't think freaking purple linings are going to be much of a help when I'm stuck in a room that looks like a pink teapot with Lee's parents.

Still. I could always claim I'm allergic to girlishness. Do you think they'd go for that?

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"It's cold."

"It's winter," Lee replies mildly as we hike up the hill towards Hogsmeade. He wouldn't let us take the secret passage because apparently that's 'only for emergencies' and the fact that I currently resemble a vertically challenged icicle isn't enough of an emergency for him to turn around and go back.

"I think I feel an allergy coming on," I press. "I should really go see Madam Pomfry about that…" I half turn around, but Lee's arm reaches out to grab me before I can actually take a step.

"You're fine, Bell. Well, physically, anyway. Not so sure about mentally…" He smirks and keeps going, leaving me to reluctantly trail along after him.

Jeez. What sort of prick doesn't care if his girlfriend is potentially about to die of an allergic reaction? I could really be allergic to pollen, and then we'd have some trouble.

Well, you know, apart from the fact that it's winter and all. If it were _spring_, on the other hand…

"Here we are," Lee tells me, pulling me out of my vengeful thoughts. If he thinks I'm going to be all, 'Wow, thanks Lee, I had a brilliant time!', he has another thing coming.

"How are we supposed to find them? It's not like they said were they'd be or anything." I was just using Madame Puffifeet's as an example before. No _real_ person would ever go there. Hogsmeade's pretty busy, today, so we'll probably find them at the Three Broomsticks.

"If I know my mother, she'll be at-" Lee looks down at me guiltily.

"No." I state bluntly.

"I _knew_ you especially wouldn't come if I told you before, but you did say-"

"No. Freaking. Way." I glare at him. I can't believe he tricked me! Doesn't he know that if I step foot in there I might have a heart attack? I think then _he'll_ be the one afraid of my brothers.

"Ka-_tie_," he whines. Ha. Now who's the pathetic whiner, buddy? It's not me. "I'll do anything if you come with me this one time."

"I don't know," I begin slowly. I'll drag it out as long as possible, just to annoy him. Oh well. It's nothing less than he deserves.

"Hang on a minute!" He yells, pointing an accusing finger at me. Oh, great. What have I done _this_ time? "It's _my_ birthday! You have to!"

"Okay, listen up, buddy," I raise an eyebrow and poke him in the chest. "First of all, I don't care if it's your birthday at the moment, because at the moment, I hate you. Second of all, who wants to see their parents on their birthday? And thirdly, no way in _hell_ are you getting me down this mountain." With that final statement I sit down cross legged on the ground, and start to twiddle my thumbs. Well, what else am I supposed to do? Become acutely aware of how the snow soaks into my pants? Er, I don't think so.

There. I showed _him_.

Then, he does a very surprising thing. He plonks himself down on the snow next to me, even though he's austerely avoided sitting in the snow ever since that time when he got locked in my trunk that was practically buried in the snow.

About ten minutes passes, and no one says anything. Ha, now he'll be late for his meeting with his beloved parents. The parents he loves so much that he's willing to go to Madame Puffifeet's just to see.

"Why are we sitting here?" He asks, finally. We've kind of been having a silent twiddling thumbs competition, to see who could twiddle them the fastest. I won.

"Because," I answer, trying to think of a reason as I go along, "you won't let me go back and I won't let you go forward." Hey, that almost sounded smart. Cool.

"Then why don't you go back and I go forward?" Lee suggests, but he doesn't bother moving.

"Because you don't want to go to Madame Puffifeet's along," I reply, shuddering at the idea of going in there at _all_, especially alone, "and I don't want to go back to Hogwarts alone in case I see our friends doing something that I don't want to see. Like playing Gobstones."

"Why don't we compromise, like normal people?" He smirks, then flicks some snow at me.

Er, because we're not normal? I don't say that to Lee, though, because he might take offence at being called weird. Even though we all know he is.

"Because," I say with a sigh, rolling my eyes. Some people are just so clueless. "I don't want to go, and you can't make me. So there."

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He made me. He _so_ made me. I can't believe he _made_ me!

"Amazing what a bit of persuasion can do, isn't it?" He grins as we approach Madame Puffifeet's, and see all the couples all over each other. This place is such a bad influence on the little children of Hogwarts- I swear I just saw a couple of second years. And let me tell you, those little twelve-year-olds weren't playing dollies.

I choose to respond to that comment in the wisest way possible- that is, hit him over the head. Or at least, as much of his head as I can reach.

"Leroy!" Oh, God no. I thought I'd have at least a few more minutes to prepare myself for the onslaught of expensive perfume that Lee's mother has lathered herself with. It's so bad that my eyes start watering, and she looks at me. "Now is not the place to cry, dear."

If I had more guts, I would glare at her. But I don't, so I just nod and wipe my watering eyes on my sleeve, trying not to inhale her perfume. It smells kind of like wet dog crossed with lavender.

I notice Lee's not crying. Hmm. Maybe he's used to it. Maybe it kills off all your brain cells, which would certainly explain why he failed his Herbology exam last year. On the other hand, it might have had something to do with the fact that he fed his plant rat poison 'just to see what it would do'. Yeah, right. What do you think it would do, Lee? Flourish?

"Happy birthday," Lee's dad tells him, stepping forward to give him a handshake. I mean, who gives their kid a _handshake_ on their birthday? "Here's your present." He gives Lee a small, neatly wrapped box. If this were my family, we would have wrapped each other's presents in as garish colours as we could possible find, and then maybe tie it with a gaudy ribbon.

"Thanks," Lee replies, putting it in his pocket. "I love it."

Apparently Lee's parents don't realise that their son hasn't even opened it, because his mother nods distractedly and pats him on the shoulder, saying, "We knew you would. That's why we got Betty to buy it for you."

I raise an eyebrow at Lee and mouth, "Betty?" What sort of person has a personal assistant or whatever she is named _Betty_?

Sometimes, I really think I put too much emphasis on people's names. After all, it's not their fault they had parents that were particularly cruel when choosing names. I mean, you'd have to be cruel to go through a baby book or whatever and go, "You know, I think I'll call my kid Bluebell."

"I'm in a bit of a rush, so how about we go order our food now?" Mrs Jordan asks firmly, already leading the way before either Lee or his dad could answer.

Okay, Madame Puffifeet's? Yeah, it's every bit the nightmare I've always imagined it to be. There is a _pink_ doormat. _A pink doormat!_ What sort of creep puts a pink doormat at the front of their business? Whatever. Rhetorical question, I suppose.

Anyway, even though Lee's a prick for bringing me here, he must have a tiny little conscience because he grabs my hand as we enter, presumably to make sure I don't faint or something. Ha. As if _I_ would faint. I've never fainted in my life. Well, apart from that thing last week with the allergic reaction.

The floor is pink and white. A pink and white floor… yeah, I won't bother saying what _that_ reminds me of. The walls are pink and red, making the room feel smaller than it actually is. Maybe the decorator was going for a charming vibe, but I am _so_ feeling claustrophobic right now.

The tables are these little heart-shaped bits of plastic, and the chairs are so flimsy I doubt they can even hold my weight. Because, let's face it. I am not a stick like Alicia. But she keeps telling me it's because I'm a Quidditch player, and muscles weigh more than fat. Oh yeah, 'Lic? Then how come you don't weigh fifteen hundred pounds?

… Not that I weigh that much. At least, I hope not. Ha, imagine if I did… I don't think I'd fit on the train going back home, and I couldn't ride Buckeye again because I'd break his back and also because Hagrid banned me from riding him after like twenty muggles saw me on him. Oh well, I'm sure they were all remarkably happy after the Obliviators were done with them.

"Bell. Earth to Katie," Lee says, waving a hand in front of me.

"Huh?" I blink and swat his hand away, and both of his parents are staring at me with their eyebrows raised. God, I hope I wasn't doing that drooling thing that Oliver sometimes does when he's thinking. It's so gross, and you just watch it drip and drip and drip-

"What do you want?" Lee asks in a falsely pleasant voice, sliding the menu towards me and grinning maniacally at his parents, who both smile back awkwardly.

Hmm. What do I want? This is really the most pathetic menu I've ever seen. It's only cemented the idea in my head that this place really is for girls who don't eat anything other than half a shred of celery and their idiotic try-hard boyfriends who want to please them.

"I want something with more than ten calories," I snap, glaring at the menu which mostly consists of 'no-fat, sugar-free cookies', and 'no-fat, no-sugar, no-carbs yoghurt'. I have a question for these chefs- how do you bake cookies without sugar? Even _I_ know that cookies taste shit without half a packet of sugar in them.

"You must try and watch your weight at your age, dear," Mrs Jordan breaks the tense silence following my outburst. She takes a tiny sip of her water and places the floral cup back down delicately. "You wouldn't want to become any more… _solid_ than you already are."

No. Way. Lee's mum just called me _fat_? I'll show her fat, the stupid cow-

"Just because you don't eat anything, Patricia, doesn't mean that girls these days think the same way," Lee's father says mildly, sounding strangely like Lee.

Mrs Jordan chokes on what little water she drank. "_Excuse me?_" I think she's a bit more surprised by the fact that her husband actually spoke rather than the fact that girls now actually like to eat more than a square of low fat cheese for lunch.

But I think Lee's dad has used up his daily quota of words, because he just smiles amiably and reaches to take one of the no-fat, no-sugar cookies that have just been placed in the middle of our stupid heart shaped table.

"In that case," I say, smirking to myself at how gob-smacked Lee's mum looks, "I think I'll have a sundae with the lot." I mean, sure, the toppings will all be 'no-sugar, no-flavour' but I think I'll be able to handle it.

Mrs Jordan clasps a hand over her heart. "Are you sure? These chairs are very unstable…"

Lee groans and slips further down his seat in embarrassment. I am never going to let him live this down- his mother took us to Madame Puffifeet's and then told me I was so fat I'd break the chairs.

"Which reminds me," she continues, oblivious to Lee glaring at her and her husband's raised eyebrows, "how do you know Lee? I've never met any of his little friends before…"

Kill me now. Please. "Um…" I look to Lee for support; I have no idea how to answer! "My name is Katie Bell, no middle name. I am fifteen and…" It takes me a moment to figure out the months. "Seven months, twenty-one days. I think. I'm a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and I originate from… some part in England." Oh, God. I've forgotten where I live! Way to make an impression on your boyfriend's mother, Katie. Forget where you live.

But at least I remembered the country, so that's something. I could have said India or something, and then she would have thought I'm a _real_ freak, what with my blonde hair and all.

Lee's mother purses her lips. "No, I don't think you're quite understanding me. How long have you been…" Another awkward throat clear, and she looks back up at me seriously. "_Courting?_"

This time, I can't help it. I burst out laughing, much to the surprise of Lee's parents. Lee, on the other hand, anticipated it and slides so far down the chair only his head can be seen, which is saying something when you think about how tall he is. Hmm… I wonder where the rest of him went?

"I dunno." I shrug and dig into my sundae, trying not to laugh hysterically again and spray it everywhere. I don't think Mrs Jordan would take too kindly to a mixture of no-fat, no-sugar, no-flavour sundae and my spit on her immaculate top.

She'd probably go and get a tetanus injection.

"I see." Lee's mum takes a moment to collect her thoughts, and then she clasps her hands together the way the bad guys in Alicia's movies always do. "I was under the impression that all…_well bred_ young ladies kept count of how long they have been seeing their spouse?"

This is so awkward I can hardly bear it. "I guess I'm not _well bred_, then," I tell her stiffly. It's a wonder Lee survived his first eleven years with her! God, you think about how this woman is so anal retentive, and then compare it to the state of Lee's dormitory, and you wonder how they could possibly be related.

Maybe Percy Weasley is her real child. And, okay, highly unlikely considering that Lee's parents are dark and Percy has orange hair, but whatever. He's their child in spirit, anyway.

"Mum, don't you have a meeting to go to?" Lee asks suddenly, hope lighting up his eyes.

Mrs Jordan looks surprised. "Well, yes, come to think of it, I do." She stands up and brushes non-existent food from her skirt- she never even order anything apart from celery carved in the shape of a heart, which she didn't eat anyway. "Good bye, Kaitlyn, it was lovely to meet you," she says, nodding at me.

"Katie," I mutter angrily. But I smile brightly and stick my hand out, which Mrs Jordan purposely ignores as if I have the Plague or something. The look on her face as she glances at it says it all for me- she thinks I have some kind of lethal disease. Well guess what, buddy? I think you have serious issues, not the least of which include saying _courting_ and calling a pair of fifteen (okay, Lee's now sixteen… whatever) year olds each other's _spouses_.

As soon as the Jordans take one step away, Lee grabs my arm and hisses into my ear, "Run for it!" We take off up the hill as fast as we can, but I reach the top like five full minutes before Lee, on account of how he can't run a hundred metres without getting a stitch.

We don't really talk much on the way back to Hogwarts. I don't talk because I'm too busy plotting revenge against both Lee and his family- Lee because it was his fault I met them, and his family for saying I'm not 'well bred'. Of course I'm well bred! I mean, I can't dance, sew, knit or anything, but that went out like two hundred years ago. Now it's all about being able to fly a broom. Oh yeah, and also because of the 'you might break the chair' comment.

Lee's probably not talking because he's plotting revenge against me for making him take me in the first place, although I have to admit I don't even remember that so therefore there's a chance that he was making it up and I never really said any such thing.

When we get up to the Gryffindor common room I flop down on the nearest couch, which incidentally is holding Alicia and Ange. They're talking quietly (well, quietly for them, anyway), but when I sit down, making the couch emit a huge _creak!_ They turn to me eagerly.

"How'd it go?" Ange asks, moving over.

I smirk at her. "I sat down in the snow for half an hour because I didn't want to go, and when Lee finally managed to make me, his parents called me fat and said that I'd break the flimsy little chairs in Madame Puffifeet's. Also, his mother accused me of being weird because I don't know how long Lee and I have been going out. I'm not weird!" I cry defensively, but Alicia and Ange just look at each other and laugh their heads off.

When Alicia finally manages to calm herself down, she turns to me and goes, "How did Lee manage to get you down the hill, anyway? You're kind of…"

"Pig headed?" Ange supplies.

Alicia considers it, then nods. "Not the eloquent phrasing I was going for, but yeah."

"Oh." This part is kind of embarrassing. "Well, he said he'd owl my brother."

Ange raises an eyebrow incredulously. "Is that all?"

"Well… no. He said he'd tell him about that time I stole his rubber duck."

"You stole your brother's rubber duck?"

"Well… no. I kind of wanted to see if Edward liked it, so I gave it to him." I explain, feeling kind of stupid.

"Who's Edward?" Alicia asks. Jeez. She is _so_ not up to speed.

"The giant squid," I tell her. "But the problem was… Edward liked it _too_ much."

Alicia goes pale. "What do you mean, 'too much'?"

"He kind of… ate him."

"Your friend Edward, who just so happens to be a giant squid, ate your brother's favourite childhood rubber duck?" Angelina says sceptically.

I nod enthusiastically. "I _knew _someone would understand!" I give her a big hug, glad that someone finally understands my dilemma.

"Get off me!" Ange shrieks, backing away. She takes a moment to think, then turns back to me. "Okay, I've got it. How about you go and ask Edward for the rubber duck back, and then you can send it to whichever brother owns it?"

Wow. I honestly haven't thought about that before. "Okay," I agree, and go to leave the common room. Guess what Lee's getting for a birthday present?

Just before I leave, I think I hear Ange say to Alicia, "Too bad she doesn't know Lee has it for bribing purposes."

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The ending was somewhat... random. I know that, and it wasn't in the original chapter, either. I thought about deleting or changing it, but then decided that rubber ducks are cool and so should get a mention. Well, that and the fact that I couldn't be bothered.


	26. I've Killed Puddlemere's INVESTMENT!

**A/N:** Wow, I've taken so long. Thanks for sticking with me though, guys... I know, I'm so frustrating! My computer time has been extremely limited... Limited to the point of non-existance, actually. I've been banned. Again. Sigh... However, I did manage to sneak enough time to _eventually_ write this, even though I did get in trouble at one point and my banned time has now been lengthened... Oh well. That's the way the cookie crumbles, I suppose. So please forgive me for typos and stuff, I might have to post this with only a minimal amount of editing... I don't want to take _too_ long!

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**January 20th**

"Oliver," Alicia says sweetly, ignoring George's oh-so-jealous glare, "are you sure we should be having practice today? I mean, I know you're worried about the game, but we'll do fine!" Her voice becomes kind of high pitched, and I wince as the 'snow proof, dementor proof' goggles in my hand crack. Huh. If they can't withstand Alicia, how on earth are they supposed to withstand a dementor?

Oliver appears to have not even heard her; he just keeps striding on determinedly, occasionally tripping because of the thick fog. It's so bad that I can't even see my own hand in front of my face, and I keep stepping on Harry's heels. Which, you know, is pretty bad, because if an event arises that causes Harry to try and save the world again, he'll be all, "Wait, sorry Voldy, do you mind if we continue this off the sharp rocks? It's just that my Quidditch team member kept stepping on my heels, and now I can't wear shoes."

Yeah. I can _so _see that happening. Not.

Anyway. If looks could kill, Oliver would be a dead man right now. Fred's patting George on the back nervously and whispering, "Calm _down_, mate. It's not like you could take him on, or anything." That's kind of harsh, although it is true that Oliver is way taller and musclier- is that even a word? - than both the twins, and they wouldn't have a hope in hell of giving him even a bruise.

"Come on, Ol," Alicia pleads, sidling up to him. "I _really_ need to do my charms essay! I've only done twenty three inches!" Shit. I've done two and a half. Oh well, I can always copy off the last half of Alicia's, because by then Flitwick won't even bother reading it, he'll just give her an 'O' and throw it away as fast as possible.

"O-_kay_!" George says cheerfully, pushing his way between Oliver and Alicia. "Let's go, team! Alicia, if you'll ever so kindly accompany me to the change rooms…" He grabs her arm and drags her off. I'm not sure where, exactly, because it's a bit hard to see, but we can hear them well enough. Almost _too_ well, if you get my meaning.

"What do you think you were doing?"

"Trying to call off practice! Believe it or not, George, there are some things more important than your stupid male pride, like homework!"

"And flirting with our _Captain_ in front of me was not the way to go about it! For God's sake, Leesh, he's _Scittish_! Do you want to catch something?"

"The correct term is '_Scottish_' and I made sure I had my gloves on first!"

"Whatever. Just, next time hit him with a Bludger over the head or something, okay? This is Wood we're talking about. As if he's gonna respond to female affections."

"And you do…?"

"Positions, everyone!" Fred yells loudly, turning so pale that I can actually see him against the fog. I mean, who can blame him? It's not as if I was entirely pleased that time I accidentally walked in on Michael and his girlfriend, back when he was still at Hogwarts. That was a traumatising experience, let me tell you.

"Weasley!" Oliver bellows. "_I'm_ the only one authorised to say that! Positions, everyone!" God, he is _such_ a control freak. If he doesn't make it in professional Quidditch, I'm sure the Minister of Magic would love to take him on board.

"I have a feeling," Angelina mutters darkly, stepping up on her broom.

"Yeah, whatever," I scoff. I think she's put a bit too much emphasis on her divination homework, personally. I hate that class, but at least I won't a high enough O.W.L. to actually have to take it for N.E.W.T.'s so that's good.

"Johnson! Spinnet! Bell!" Huh, typical Oliver, calling _my_ name last. I think we all know where I stand in the 'favourite Chaser' stakes. "Get up in the air _now_! I want at least fifty spins!"

Oh, God no. Oliver's version of a spin is where we have to jump off our broom mid air, catch the handle and haul ourselves back up again. Apparently, though, Mr Wood hasn't taken it into account that fog generally tends to make everything covered in it slippery. We'll be lucky if Gryffindor still has three Chasers after this.

Nobody else sees any problem with this, though. And as I am just poor, stupid, naïve little Katie, they must be right and I must be wrong. So I get on my broom anyway, and take it up thirty feet. Hey, I may be poor, stupid, naïve little Katie, but no way am I going the full sixty feet that he wants us to. I do listen to my instincts _sometimes_, you know!

"Bell! Higher! Why do I always have to tell _you_ off? Do you see Johnson or Spinnet disobeying my instructions?" He demands. Whoa, 'disobeying' is a big word for Oliver. The only words I thought were in his vocabulary were 'Quidditch', 'win' and 'dictator'.

"But-"

"No buts! A hundred spins!"

"Yeah, Bell," Fred cackles from somewhere below me, "you wouldn't want to sound like a goat!" He and George guffaw at their own joke, and I can hear them attempt to give each other high fives. Of course, high fives generally don't involve smacking each other on the head but whatever. They're Weasleys; they can do what they want and nothing will be thought of it.

Idiots. I can't believe Fred actually knows what a goat is.

"Alright there, Harry?" I mean, no one else bothers giving the kid a second glance at Quidditch practice. Alicia and George are too busy flirting/snogging with each other, Fred and Ange are too busy alternately actually practicing and flirting/snogging with each other, and Oliver's just too intent on 'perfecting' throwing the Quaffle to himself and then catching it before it goes through the hoops. Hey, I never said the kid has a life.

I, on the other hand, whilst extremely busy worrying about how I'm getting frostbite and my eyes are glazing over, actually am nice enough to see that Harry just about rammed into that post. I have to be nice- it's not his fault he's as blind as a bat when his glasses fog over.

"Um… I think so," he replies, feeling around in front of him and grasping the pole. "I can't see, though…"

"As evident when you almost knocked the goal post out of the ground," I mutter sarcastically, but as usual, my irreverent sense of wit just goes over his head. "Here," I sigh exaggeratedly, as if it's a big bother to go over and grab the glasses out of his hands. Weird- he was closer than I realised… In fact, I was kind of hovering right next to the pole, and I couldn't even see it!

"Thanks Katie," Harry says gratefully, although it takes him a while to find them. "Hey, is it just me or does it feel like we've already done this before?"

The poor kid. You know how they reckon that Harry was the only one who survived the curse and stuff? I think it did do something to him, though- it's addled his brains, and now he's 'simple'. "Yes, Harry," I tell him slowly. "This is familiar because we are on a _Quidditch_ team. That is where you either throw a big round thing called a _Quaffle_ through the hoops, or you try and catch a small gold ball with wings. That's what you do. Of course, it's not that you're not good at it… It's just that-"

"Katie! Catch!" A voice bellows suddenly, interrupting my detailed monologue on the specifics of Quidditch. Before I even have time to think about it, a large brown spot comes rushing towards me, so fast that I can actually see it through the fog- which, really kind of defies the laws of… Well, whatever it is that allows you to see through fog.

It's not that I can't catch a Quaffle. I am, after all, on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and no matter how much I complain about Oliver and his dictator-ness, we're not that bad of a team. It's just that the Quaffle was thrown _really_ hard, and I wasn't even ready for it. It took me by complete surprise, which might have something to do with why it rammed into my _stomach_.

And oh, that _hurt_, okay? It's like a cannonball hurtling into your _flesh_ at like two hundred miles an hour! Really, I wouldn't have been surprised if it had gone all the way through my abdomen. Ew…

But after the whole 'grossed out' factor has passed, it doesn't take me very long to get mad. Really, if I didn't act blonde, I could so be a red-head. Then again, there's already two of them in our group; I don't think we need any more Fred and Georges.

Anyway. Like I was saying, it doesn't take me very long to get mad, especially when someone has just attempted to put a not-insignificantly sized ball through my stomach.

"Who the _hell_ was that?" I demand, attempting to bounce the Quaffle up and down, like those professional hoop-ballers on Alicia's favourite movie. Well, on the television it looked really scary and intimidating. In the middle of a foggy night when my eyes are practically hanging out of my head due to tiredness, I'm guessing that I really can't do the intimidating thing all that well.

"You were talking!" Oliver yells back, not even bothering to apologise for trying to decapitate me.

"I was helping a fellow team-mate, something _you_ wouldn't have a clue about!" I scream in the general direction of his voice. I mean, it figures that Oliver _should_ be near the goal posts, on account of being Keeper and all that, but I thought Harry and I were near them. Maybe Oliver hasn't been eating his carrots lately and is actually out in the middle of the pitch.

"And _you_ wouldn't have a clue about following the Captain's orders!" He shouts obstinately back at me.

"You _bastard_!" Without even stopping to think about it, really, I hurl the Quaffle towards his voice as fast and as hard as possible, in the process probably setting a new world record. Too bad it was while I was throwing it at someone's head, and not actually to get a goal.

"Be-" _Crack!_ The Quaffle has evidently hit the desired target, judging by the loud cry of pain and the resounding thump that usually occurs when someone has fallen from their broom and hit the ground below.

George is the only one who bothers to see if he's okay. "Wood! Wood, you there, mate?" George says. "Tell me if you can feel this kick," he tells Oliver, and proceeds to kick him in the stomach. Which is pretty harsh, really. I wonder where the Quaffle hit him…

"Oh, shit. He's not responding!" George yells up at us, and everyone flies down immediately. I didn't really think there'd be anything wrong with him. I mean, he's _Oliver Wood_. Puddlemere has already recruited him! "Oh my God, I've killed our Captain!" I scream as soon as I touch down. "I've killed Puddlemere's investment!"

"Get a grip, Katie!" Angelina sneers at me, giving my shoulder a shake. "Why do you always make emergencies about yourself?"

Whoa, _touchy_. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. "Where'd the Quaffle get him?" I ask nobody in particular. Alicia fancies herself as a bit of a healer among us, so she's trying out all these spells she's read about in books, just to see what happens.

Nothing does. I mean, she's supposed to be some kind of child _genius_, yet she can't even perform a simple healing spell? "God, get out of the way," I snap, pushing her aside and brandishing my wand. Hey, you never know when it might be useful. "What's the incantation?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Katie…" She says doubtfully, looking at Oliver with a worried expression on her face. Ha. Just because you're a little charms genius doesn't mean we all are, Spinnet. "It's like _ahlohamora_, except different." Yeah, figured that out, sunshine. "Just flick your wand and say _clearohamora_."

Oh, yeah. Whatever. She so made that spell up herself, a bit like the time Fred and George 'taught' Ron how to turn Scabbers yellow. I think Alicia's been spending too much time around George… What, with her brains and his- um, personality, there could be disastrous results.

"Katie? Spell?" Alicia prompts, looking at me all weird. "One, two, three!"

"_Clearo_-"

"Wait!" Oliver's ragged voice is desperate as he raises an arm to stop me. "No! Not… Bell… Anything… her…"

Fred and George look at each other and shrug. "Just do it," Fred says calmly. "Dear old Ol's not thinking too well at the moment. After all, it tends to be painful when the school's top Chaser throws a Quaffle straight at your head. Believe me, I know."

"_I_ didn't throw it," Angelina says crossly, giving him a dig in the ribs with her elbow for added effect.

"My bad. _Second_ best Chaser in the school," Fred amends, grinning smugly at me.

Grr. What is _up_ with Ange today? She should seriously go see Pomfry, because I think she's coming up with something.

"Go on, Katie."

"No…"

"Well," I say cheerfully, not feeling the least bit bad, "here goes." I raise my wand directly at Oliver and perform the spell rather perfectly, in my perfectly non-biased opinion. Unfortunately though, just at that moment, McGonagall and Pomfry rush out of the castle, and their cries of shock as they see me attempt to fix Oliver up aren't encouraging, to say the least.

"Miss Bell!" McGonagall yells indignantly. She's been running and is out of breath, otherwise I suspect she'd probably do the whole 'yelling-but-not-quite-yelling' thing on me. Believe me, that is _way_ scarier than just plain old shouting. "How _dare_ you perform a spell on another student? Have you not learnt _anything_ during your stay at Hogwarts?"

Um, yeah. I've learnt that when you plan on breaking the rules, such as hexing your beloved captain in the middle of Quidditch practice, it's best not to do it right in front of your Head of House's window. Or really, in a public place at all. Although that said, not sure I'd like to put a spell on Oliver in a _broom_ cupboard.

I get claustrophobic easily.

"What happened?" Pomfry asks briskly, assessing Oliver's pulse and his heartbeat or whatever. Huh. What, she thinks I would purposely _stop his heart beating_? I may be cruel, but I'm not _that_ cruel. Besides, if I killed Oliver, he wouldn't be around any more for me to torment. So really, I'd just be losing out.

"Well," Angelina begins, sneaking a look at me. "It was all-"

"An accident!" I interrupt hastily. "It was an accident, I swear! It was really foggy and slippery up there, and I was throwing the Quaffle when I suddenly slipped! It was just as I was throwing the Quaffle, too, and so it didn't go in the direction I was aiming for. I told Oliver I was unbelievably sorry, and I feel so, so bad…" I adopt a pose of extreme sadness, turning away and pretending to cry, when really I'm just laughing. Pomfry puts a hand on my shoulder sympathetically, and gestures for me to continue. "So I offered to fix it up, right, and then Alicia told me the spell, and so I did it just when you were coming… I don't know if it worked, though."

"Well aren't you a good friend?" Pomfry smiles at me for the first time in all the years I've known her. Wait, I take that back. When I have _especially_ serious injuries, she smiles at me because she thinks that I get what I deserve and she doesn't feel the least bit sorry for me. After more than two days, though, she's not smiling because she's stuck with me.

While she and McGonagall are busy trying to get Oliver onto a stretcher that McGonagall conjured up, I sneak up to Alicia. "What was that spell supposed to do, anyway? Nothing's happened."

Alicia, to her credit, blushes and looks down at the ground. "It's kind of… a New Age thing," she says, scuffing the grass and then patting it back down with her foot. Even when she's embarrassed she's still a perfectionist. "It's supposed to chase all the bad energy out of his body, like pain…"

"_Supposed_ to?"

"Yeah… And it's like a harmless way of getting rid of the pain."

I gape at her. "So, in other words, it was only supposed to get rid of the pain, not actually fix him up?"

She nods thoughtfully. "I never thought about that. Well, yes, I guess."

"You _guess_? I could have_ killed_ him!" I exclaim, perhaps a bit too loudly for comfort. McGonagall glances over at me and raises her eyebrows, but I don't think she heard me.

Alicia shrugs. "Well… you didn't, so it's all okay," she smiles down at me. "You'll see. In a few minutes Oliver will get up, good as new-"

"Oh my God, who'll be Quidditch captain for the game on Sunday?" Angelina suddenly yells, looking as though she's about to have a heart attack. "We can't play without a captain!" We all start arguing about it. I don't think we need a captain to play, and neither does Fred, but everyone else does.

"_Bell!_" We all jump back in alarm. We were so focused on the 'debate' that we kind of forgot about Oliver. He's like that. His eyes are still closed, and he's not moving, but he definitely said my name.

"What, you think _Katie_ should be the Captain?" Angelina laughs, in a 'ha-ha-that-is-definitely-_not_-funny' kind of way.

"_Bell!_" He says loudly. I'd imagine that in Oliver's subconscious, he thinks he's yelling. But really, he just sounds like a mouse on helium.

"We need to get him to the Hospital Wing, I think he's becoming delirious," McGonagall says worriedly, and she and Madame Pomfry immediately head for it, with Oliver floating on his stretcher next to them. Huh. They could have gone off with him like half an hour ago- I think they just like my company. Although I have to admit, it _is_ very delightful-

"God, Bell, I can't believe how vicious you are," George comments easily, slumping against on the wall of a bleacher. But he quickly stands up straight again when he discovers that it's a Slytherin one. Typical boys- male pride, etc, etc.

"Even their _bleacher_ walls are cold," he mutters to himself, glaring at it distastefully.

"It _was_ kind of mean…" Alicia begins hesitantly, giving me a sidelong glance.

"Are you kidding me? It was bloody brilliant!" Fred exclaims, giving me a high five. "I'd give up George's Beater position for her any day!"

"Hey!"

"Thanks, I think," I say, ignoring George's indignant cry. "I'd rather Chaser… That way I don't feel guilty when I 'accidentally' slam the Quaffle into someone's face."

"You could _so_ be a Slytherin," Angelina murmurs under her breath, flinching when I accidentally touch her with my shoulder. I wonder what I've done now- maybe I ate her entire chocolate stash. Although she wasn't this mad when I did that last year, so that can't be it. Anyway, I think I'd realise if I did that, because last time I had to run around the pitch three times before I could get back into my Quidditch uniform.

Stupid inherited metabolism. It's all my mother's fault, I tell you.

"I think," Alicia says slowly, always the voice of reason in arguments, "we should go see McGonagall and see what she thinks. If she says we don't need a Captain, then we won't have one. If she thinks we do, then-"

"Yeah, yeah," I interrupt. "We get it. Onwards, troops!" I point forward, but George turns my arm to the right mutely. I _do_ know where the Hospital Wing is… sometimes I just forget, that's all.

Ange gives me a dirty look. "Only the _Captain_ should be allowed to say that," she says spitefully.

"Oh yeah?" I'm sick of her behaviour and stop in my tracks with my hands on my hips. Hey, I know she's seven inches taller than me or whatever. It's not like I was _planning_ a fight when I woke up this morning. "Then does that make you more qualified to say it?"

She shrugs. "I don't see why you should say anything," she says coolly, and keeps on walking, leaving my jaw dropping. What is _up_ with her? I tell you, if she's still like this tomorrow, then I will _not_ be blaming it on a bad pancake.

When we get to the Hospital Wing, Fred motions McGonagall over into the corner. As Alicia says, "We don't want his unconscious to be tainted with our ugly thoughts". Don't know what kind of ugly thoughts she's having, but hey, I don't want to know about it.

"Do you think we need a Captain?" I ask frankly. "Personally, I don't see why we do-"

"It's not all about you, Katie!" Angelina snaps. "Who's going to have a handshake with the other captain?"

"Who _wants _to touch Flint's hand, anyway?" I fire back.

"Wrong team, Bell-"

"Enough!" McGonagall commands in her 'yelling-but-not-quite-yelling' voice. "Now," she says quietly, "I have taken into account of the wishes of the current Captain _and_ the majority of the team."

Oh, shit. We're going to be having a Captain, and it'll be Angelina. Can you just _imagine _the sorts of things she'll make me do?

"The temporary Captain will be Katie Bell, and all of you as a team will need to find a replacement Keeper."

Oh. My. God. Why do I keep getting picked for important things like this? After all, it's not as if my behaviour is exactly role-model material, or my grades are great. Remember, the last time I was top of a class was in first year! First that stupid Student-of-the-Term thing or whatever it was (the medal was sent to my mum so she could show it to her snobby friends, and I haven't seen it since) and now Captain.

"Why me?" I blurt out, thinking even as I say it that it really isn't the smartest thing to say.

If McGonagall's surprised by my question, she doesn't show it. "Because," she says simply, "Wood wanted you to be."

"_What?_" My voice is not alone- it's joined by Angelina, and I have an inkling about why she's so mad at me. She thinks she's supposed to be 'The One' at Quidditch, and she doesn't appreciate it when I do something to take away attention from her. I didn't even mean to! I can't help it… Accidents (even though throwing a Quaffle at someone really isn't classified as accident) just happen around me.

McGonagall shrugs, looking a bit annoyed. "I asked him, and he said 'Bell'. Poppy seems to think he's conscious…" She mutters, half to herself and half to us. She walks away from us and back over to Pomfry, still half-talking to herself.

Angelina's face is on fire and she races out the door. "Great," I say sarcastically. "It's all my fault and for once, I didn't even do anything." Before my friends can say anything, though, I salute them and say, "Wish me luck," before following Angelina out the door. With any luck I can get her to see my side of it… Better yet, I can even _give_ her the role of 'temporary Captain'. It's not like I actually _earned_ it- Oliver was probably still yelling at me in his head.

For an athlete, she hasn't gone far- I see her head disappearing down the stairs, and run to catch up with her. "Ange, wait!"

I knock into someone as I run haphazardly down the stairs. "Sorry," I automatically apologise without even glancing at them. Angelina's gone down another flight of stairs-

"Katie?" It's Lee, and he reaches out an arm to steady me as I turn around so fast I almost lose my balance. "I heard about Oliver, and- where're you going?"

"Sorry," I repeat. "Can't stop now, got to find Ange…"

I eventually do find Angelina in a deserted classroom. I think it's the one used for Ancient Runes, but I wouldn't know for sure as I didn't take that class, because I thought it would be too hard. Apparently though, the teacher's really nice and nobody does anything expect talk the entire time. You can bet I'm wishing I took that class now instead of Divination. Muggle Studies isn't that bad, really.

"Ange!" I yell in my best 'stop now or else' voice.

She hesitates, but turns around and glares at me. "What?"

"Look," I say, wishing I had a speech prepared so I wouldn't have to make it up on the spot. I'll probably end up saying something really stupid and insensitive and then she'll hate me forever. Story of my life. "I didn't realise why you were so mad until just before, and all I can say is…"

"What?" She demands. "Say you're sorry? That you actually suck at Quidditch, even though you've been made _Captain_? What, Katie?"

Oooh, that does it. "All I can say is this: _Grow up!_ So I got lucky and threw a Quaffle at Oliver Wood's head, and in his delusional state he accidentally named me captain when all he was _really_ trying to do was tell me off. Big deal. You're still going to be named Captain next year when he leaves, you're still good enough to play it professionally. Do you really think the Kestrels or the Harpies are actually going to _care_ if you were only made Captain for two days and it was never even recorded? Of course not! So get over yourself, for God's sake. Yes, you're better than me at Quidditch. I know that, Oliver knows that, the whole damn _world_ knows that!"

And, after that impassioned speech, the only thing Angelina has to say is, "Whatever, Katie," before glaring at me and walking off. This time, though, I let her go. I'm not sure if what I said really helped or not, but frankly, at the moment I don't care. She can deal with her own 'Quidditch demons'.

Now, I wonder if I can rope Lee into being Keeper? I mean, if not, I could always use Connie Cretin… I bet he's really good at reflecting things that are thrown his way. That time last week when I threw a tomato at him, he caught it and then _threw it back_!

I mean, granted, it ended up behind him, but it's the thought that counts, right?

We're stuffed, I know.

* * *

**A/N:** Augh! Help! Exactly what team is it that they play next, and do they win or lose? Remember, I don't have the book and it doesn't have it in the movie... Although, if it doesn't have it in the book either, I'll just make it up. Anyways, please remember to review! (By the way, last chapter was the first chapter in... _ages_ that I actually got ten reviews for the one chapter, and in a reasonable time period. Thanks a bunch :D) 


	27. ANOTHER Mini Katie Crisis

**A/N:** I'm updating:D

* * *

**January 23rd**

You know what I hate about my house? We're supposed to be really brave, loyal and true, but who _really_ gives a crap about those qualities? The most important thing is that apparently, Gryffindors can't play Quidditch to save themselves.

No, I'm not talking about the actual _team_. We're all pretty good, if I say so myself. But all the other people- civilians, non-important people, if you like- can't play at all. Seriously, they suck. Not even remotely good.

I feel sorry for Harry, because he'll be the Quidditch Captain when we leave, and then he'll be the only member left of 'Team Wood'. Although at the moment, it's 'Team Bell'- a name that everyone except Angelina has whole-heartedly embraced. Fred and George even made a banner for Ron to hold up at the match later today.

In the past three days, I've discovered a new found appreciation for Oliver Wood and his role as Captain. Of course, that appreciation doesn't extend to his cleaning skills- the Captain's office, which is little more than a broom closet devoid of brooms, was _disgusting_. I don't think it's been cleaned in the three years he's been Captain. In fact, I don't think it's been cleaned since the minute Charlie Weasley stepped foot out of that door (although it's doubtful Charlie cleaned it, either… He was never what you might call a 'neat freak').

Still, I never thought it was actually _hard_ being Captain. In fact, it always sounded kind of cool, because you get to boss everyone around and kick them off the team (as Oliver has shown me many times). Apparently, though, it's actually _bad sportsmanship_ to kick your team member off the team unless you have a good reason.

Yeah. Hear that, Oliver? You are an advocator of _bad sportsmanship_! I seriously considered going to McGonagall about that, then decided it wasn't worth it. After all, I'm always back on the team before a game, and if it means that I get to miss a few dawn practices, I'm all for it. Of course, I guess it'd be totally acceptable if Oliver kicks me off the team as soon as he wakes up, which is why I went to the liberty of cleaning his office for him.

That's right. His _entire_ office, all one and a half square metres of it. (Told you it was small.) But for small a broom-like-closet-that-doesn't-contain-brooms, it was one hell of a mess. I did ask for Alicia's help, though. She took one look at it and ran away crying… I guess it does stuff to her self esteem to know that there are still people out there who don't require the same level of cleanliness as she does, or something.

Anyway, it took me all of yesterday _and_ the day before that. During that time I encountered: many, many empty bottles of ink, most of which had unidentifiable substances on them; sweaty socks; most of Oliver's wardrobe, which really just confirmed my suspicion that he has no life and lives in his little dingy office; and plays. Tens upon tens of plays, most of which were the same with tiny little differences, such as Alicia being the main person instead of Ange, or tilting the broom at a different angle. You know. Nit-pick stuff.

He's worse than Lee's parents. Ha, I bet they're regretting being mean to me now that I've been named _Captain_. Or, rather Lee's mum. His dad didn't really say much… Obviously Lee didn't inherit his 'strong, silent type' personality.

"I'm sorry," Fred says to a scrawny blonde kid in a tone that says he's really _not_ sorry, "we'll post the results up later this afternoon, but I can't guarantee anything…" At least Fred's making an effort to be nice to him, I suppose. I probably would have just gone, "Hey, kid, you're crap. Don't come back."

A lot of the potential Keepers just keep coming back… and back… and back. It's like they don't know the meaning of the phrase, "Mate... You're crap at Quidditch." Well, that was what Lee told one kid, but then I told him off for being mean to his fellow housemates (I have to assert my authority, after all) and so now he's commentating on the ones in the air.

"No! I'm good, really I am!" Scrawny takes on a desperate look. "Let me speak to your Captain!" He begs, not noticing Fred's alarmed look.

"Well, the thing is… Our Captain has life-threatening head injuries," he blurts out suddenly. He fixes a stern gaze on the kid, who even has the decency to look ashamed. "And you wouldn't want to cause the Gryffindor Captain's death, would you?" He says, shaking his head. "Puddlemere would have your head."

"Isn't… Isn't that the Captain?" The small kid asks hesitantly, pointing at Ange. "I mean, I always kind of figured the best player would be the reserve Captain."

Hmm. Not good- if Ange hears, she might just go over and convince the kid that yes, she is the Captain and that he can be the Keeper, just to undermine my authority! "Hel-lo!" I chime enthusiastically, going over to save Fred. "I'm actually the Captain, on _Oliver Wood's_ request." Well, it's only a little white lie.

"_You_?" The kid's tone is incredulous. "Why on earth would he make _you_ the Captain?" He looks me up and down with an expression of disgust.

Oooh. That was harsh. "Why wouldn't he?" I ask icily, trying to restrain myself from punching the kid in the face. Relax, Katie. Remember what the counsellor said about your anger management issues?

Fred notices my clenched fists and he gives the kid a worried look, who ignores it completely and takes a step closer. "It's not like you're even that good at Quidditch," he says with a flick of his hair. Seriously- the kid _flicked _his hair!

"I don't see _you_ on the team."

"Because Wood is an idiot and couldn't see my potential," he replies coolly. "Also, he said that the team was full and the only position that would open anytime soon was Katie Bell's, and that's you, isn't it?"

Even the _Slytherins_ know my name! The stinky, slimy snakes know my name and my own house member does not! I mean, granted, they do call me 'That Gryffindork Bell', but at least they know my last name! I suppose that's why I kind of… Let loose.

With a temper as delicate as mine, insulting me (or failing to memorise my name) is like willingly going into a hungry, hungry hippogriff's den and expecting to come out with more than one severed limb. It's just one of those things you only do if your Quidditch team has come last for the season.

"Yes, you filthy little mu-"

"_Oh my God!_" The kid is yelling and backing away from me before I can even complete my sentence. "She's one of _them_!" He stage whispers to the ever-increasing crowd of spectators, who look particularly intrigued with the way he dramatically announces my 'affinity'. To what, I don't know.

"One of what?" A kid finally pipes up, when it becomes apparent that Scrawny Kid isn't going to continue for this year, at least.

"_Them_. You know, a-" here he pauses and looks around the group, wide-eyed, "one of those _muggle-born_ haters."

There's a shocked silence, which is very quickly broken by Fred's derisive snort. "Yeah, right. Katie's about as much a Death Eater as I am," he comments scornfully. "Go back to your imaginary ponies," he dismisses the kid with a wave of his hand and looks around him to the next one.

"Did you hear what she called me?" Scrawny asks pompously. "No, you didn't. She called me a dirty little mu-something."

The shocked faces turn to look at me. I glare at the ground stubbornly and scuff the grass with my foot. "I said _filthy_," I mutter darkly.

All voices start talking at once. "Katie Bell!"

"Her family donates tons of money to St Mungos…"

"…Wonder why, if they're all opposed to muggle-borns…"

Wait. What? "_What_?" I blurt out. "What are you _talking_ about?"

Fred looks at me carefully. "Runty over here thinks that you called him a… you know…"

"No…" Forgive me if I'm a bit slow, but remember I have official _duties_ now. I have to be thinking about the team twenty four hours a day until after the match in order to achieve a good result. At least, according to Oliver psychology, and if it works for Oliver then it'll work for me. At least, I hope it will… Otherwise I'll be getting blue and gold tomatoes thrown at me at dinner tonight.

He looks around and then pulls me close and whispers it in my ear, but just as he finishes it, a cry of indignation marks the start of yet another mini-Katie-crisis. That's my new word for the day… I suspect it'll be used a lot…

"_Fred? Katie?_" Lee Jordan has finally stopped commenting the Quidditch and is now commenting on why Fred happens to be so close to my face.

"Uh, yeah…" I laugh weakly and ignore Lee. "Let me get this straight: I was going to say _filthy_ little _mud-splashed_ runt! Because that's what you are, you filthy little mud-splashed runt! I deserve to be on this team because unlike you, I can actually _play_ Quidditch! And if that's how you get your kicks, by insulting fellow house-members, then you do not _deserve_ to be a Gryffindor! Because that's not what Gryffindor is about! We're about loyalty, bravery and Quidditch! That's why we'll be brave when we go into battle with the Ravenclaws for Quidditch, and it's why you'll all be right there in the stands, cheering us on!"

The effect is gob smacking. Everyone stops bickering and yelling rude comments at me, and they all start cheering like crazy and a couple of the younger boys even start growling like lions. I don't know why- it's a bit alarming as one tries to bite the other's arm- but at least they're showing support for their house. Even if it is in their own way, I suppose…

Fred and George whistle and start singing a song that they invented themselves which basically just bags all the other houses, and I'm not sure it's very school-spirit-y. But oh well, everyone else is enjoying it…

Except Lee. He's surveying the premature winner's party with a frown on his face, and when I step forward to ask him if he liked my impromptu speech, (I could seriously be one of those con artists that go around and convince people to give up their life savings, although I doubt it's legal, which is a bit of a bummer.) but he turns abruptly and walks away when he sees me coming. Weird.

Oh well. If Lee has some problem, then he can discuss it with me _after_ the game. I mean, don't get me wrong, or anything, of _course_ I care. It's just that I'll be in a more caring mood _after_ we've won the Quidditch match tonight.

As long as he gets over his little snitch with the Gryffindors before the game. After all, it wouldn't exactly show team spirit if he suddenly started going, "Bell, what a pathetic pass! You're as bad as the Slytherins!"

Although you never know, the Slytherins might consider it a compliment…

* * *

"Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-" 

"Merlin, Katie! Can't you find a better curse? Or at least one you believe in?" Alicia asks irritably, rolling her eyes as she watches me pace back and forth in the change rooms. It's not long before our team is about to be called in, and we still don't have a Keeper.

"It's become a figure of speech!" I protest. Then, on a sudden whim, I grab a chair and climb up unsteadily on it. I don't know what came over me… But maybe I'll suddenly come up with an even better inspiring speech than the one at practice. "Okay, team meeting!"

"Yeah, give us another speech," George snickers and elbows Fred.

I ignore them and concentrate mostly on Harry because a) it's what Oliver used to do, and b) he seems to be the only one inclined to listen. "We don't really have a plan, guys, so sorry about that. I have a list of excuses, starting with…" I actually did write out a list on a scrap of parchment, and I pull it out of my pocket and read off it, hoping as I do that it's the right one.

"I've discovered that it's actually hard to have a life and be Quidditch Captain. Merlin only knows how Oliver manages it."

"That's because Oliver doesn't _have_ a life," Fred points out, a fact on which we unanimously agree on.

"What makes you think Katie does, either?" Angelina mutters, but no one else hears her and I choose to ignore her. Next time I see Doctor Spencer, I am so bragging about how far I've come since my days of pulling out Hannah Abbot's hair because she stole my favourite chocolate frog card.

"So yeah. Also, I had to clean Oliver's _entire_ office because now he'll actually feel guilty about kicking me off the team when he wakes up from his coma- which, by the way, I've been told has been down-graded to non-life-threatening, so that's good.

"You guys would seriously not _believe_ how disgusting it was. I seriously think there was unidentified bacteria that had mutated to the size of my hand, and it had probably all grown off the numerous sweaty socks that I found in there. I've come to the conclusion that Oliver Wood is a disgusting pig and will be lucky to ever get a girl. In fact, he'd be lucky to get a guy, because no one would ever want him!" I end this rant with a sweep of my hands and a big smile, except no one is looking at me any more… They're looking directly over my shoulder. Oh, shit.

"He's right behind me, isn't he?" I ask tiredly. Now he'll _definitely_ kick me off the team, even though I cleaned his office.

"_Bell!_" Wood barks like the commanding officer he thinks he is. "We-"

"And now, the Gryffindor team!" Lee's voice is our cue to step outside, and for a moment I think that Oliver won't let us go outside, but he nods tightly to George, who opens up the door and strides proudly out.

I'm just about to walk after Alicia, when Oliver's arm pulls me back. "This is _not_ over, Bell," he hisses. Just as I'm about to call for security- not that we're so privileged that we get body-guards, I just want to see if any actually come running to my aid- he lets me go and pushes me so hard that I stumble and almost fall flat on my face in front of the entire Hogwarts population and all the business people. Just why they'd want to come to a children's Quidditch game, (even though Oliver takes pride in the team, that's really all it is- a children's Quidditch league) I don't know.

"And it looks like Bell is having a hard time staying upright!" Lee's voice calls from the commentators' box. As soon as he starts talking to me, I am going to _kill_ him. At least it answers my earlier question- he definitely _is_ going to be treating me like the Slytherins.

And guess what? I don't even get to play Captain and shake Roger Davies' hand! They're not even letting me shake _Roger Davies_' hand! I mean, yeah, I have a boyfriend (at this exact moment, I'm not sure… but I did a few hours ago, anyway) but Roger Davies is like a non-dictator version of Oliver. And yeah, Oliver pisses me off no end, but I will give him this: he's hot. Except you only have to talk to him for like thirty seconds and you instantly get turned off. Davies, on the other hand, actually has a brain. Well, enough of one to get sorted into Ravenclaw, anyway.

So with all this in mind, you'd think they'd at least give me the opportunity to shake his hand, but _nooooo_. Instead, Madam Hooch is all, "Well, if Wood's back then he's the Captain, not you, Bell!"

… Not that I protest her decision or anything. Then Lee might get jealous and say something and before we know it, he'll be in court facing the Wizamagot on charges of verbal harassment (Roger's dad is some sort of upper-class prominent ministry figure. Bit shady, if you ask me).

Oliver raises an eyebrow at me (even in his blind rage about me taking over the position when I was the one who hit him in the head with a Bludger in the first place, I don't think he expected me to be so eager about being Captain. Well, what does he expect? I've experienced all the crap parts of the job, now I want the perks!) and steps up to shake Davies' hand.

They don't even say anything, just nod stiffly to the other and eye them up and down like wolves sizing up their opponent and deciding whether to go in for the kill.

Madam Hooch blows her whistle, and suddenly everyone's up in the air, looking for their various balls. I mean the Quaffle, Bludgers and the Snitch… Although that Ravenclaw player was looking a bit suss…

It takes me a moment to realise that everyone else has left the ground, and Lee doesn't miss the opportunity to make a cutting remark. Prick- what did I ever do to him? It's so annoying having a boyfriend who's the school commentator. Then when you fight (although technically it's kind of a one sided fight, but whatever) he can bitch about you in front of the _whole damn school_!

But what can I do? Throw a Quaffle at his head? Big deal, because he's sitting comfortably inside a cozy little room with a heating charm and behind Bludger proof windows!

This is so unfair. I'm going to play horribly the entire game because I'm so busy wondering why Lee's mad at me and how to get revenge, and so Oliver will yell at me because I let the team down. (Ha, like we're going to win, anyway.) And then when Oliver's finished yelling at me, Lee will come up and yell at me for whatever it was that I did. And then when Lee's finished yelling at me, so will all my friends because we'll be out of the running for the Quidditch Cup and because of whatever it was that I did to Lee.

Sigh. Life is so hard when your team-mates are also your best friends. It's even harder when your boyfriend is also your best friends' best friend.

First thing I'm doing after I escape from all the yelling? I am _so_ finding a new group of friends.

"Katie- _Quaffle_!" Alicia screams as the brown ball comes whizzing towards me at a hundred miles an hour. I'm just about to reach out for it when a Ravenclaw that looks suspiciously like- well, the _enemy_- grabs it straight out from under my nose and shoots off in the direction of their goals.

I don't know why I even bother. After all, we're going to lose anyway and I'll never get it back from whoever it was that bloody stole the Quaffle, and even if I do I'll probably manage to chuck it to yet another Ravenclaw. I tell you, they're as abundant as flies- they're everywhere.

Although I have to admit, we have an even number of players on the pitch… There just seems to be more of them, that's all. Maybe it's their uniform- I think it's designed to be misleading and cause you to go, "Weren't you just over there? No, over there? Wait, how can you be over there as well?" First thing I do after all the yelling finishes and I find a new group of friends? I am _so_ getting McGonagall to update our uniforms.

"Oh no you freaking well _don't_!" I yell after him, not caring if the entire school hears me swearing. Although it might be a bit of a problem if either McGonagall or Dumbledore do… Or Madam Hooch, because she'll accuse me of bad sportsmanship (I should know, I only read the entire book of rules I found in Oliver's office). Or even if the business people hear, because then they might decide to kick me out of the school…

I lean low on my broom, so that it'll go as fast as it can. Poor broom- I've had it since second year; everyone keeps telling me to get a better, newer one, but I'm kind of attached to it. I've even named it, so that it can have an identity so that Angelina and Alicia won't throw it out when I'm not looking. She's called Betsy, because I decided it might be a bit weird if I spent seventeen hours a week or more sitting on a broom named Bob.

The wind causes my eyes to tear so I can't really see much, but pretty soon I see a blue blob that could or could not be a Ravenclaw Quidditch player, so I decide to go tackle it just for kicks. I mean, er, I'm going to 'gently retrieve' the Quaffle for 'game purposes'.

Anyway, it turns out pretty good, because the blue blob- it turns out to be Alicia, who had managed to get the Quaffle… don't know _why_ I thought she was blue… I think the eye dude only gave me twenty-twenty vision because I said I'd kick him in the shins if he didn't- gladly relinquishes the Quaffle after a few discreetly placed elbows in the side.

Look, don't get the wrong idea, or anything. I'm a good sport, really. I enjoy the game and respect the rules. But I figure with my luck, I'll be bound to get fouled off for something I haven't even done, so I might as well _break _the rules so they at least have a reason to kick me off the pitch. It might be twisted logic, but hey, it's _my _logic.

Surprisingly, all the _real_ blue blobs don't even come near me as I flash up the field in search of the goals. I even have time to adjust the angle of my shot and everything. In fact, I take so long in perfecting it, somebody- I think Roger Davies, actually- calls out, "Just bloody well get the goal already!"

So I do. Get the goal, I mean. It goes in perfectly- right through the middle of the middle hoop and everything. It's so perfect, in fact, that the stupid Ravenclaw Keeper doesn't even bother lifting an arm to block it. He just watches it sail through the hoop and then watch the ten points pop up on our side of the scoreboard, next to Ravenclaw's nothing.

"And Katie Bell has got the first goal of the match!" Lee yells, admittedly not all that enthusiastically. "It was a bit of a wobbly shot, Katie, what's got your knickers in a knot? Honestly, Professor, I wasn't making crass remarks about the player's underwear… Katie has a very nice choice in underwear, actually, I should know… No, Professor, I was only kidding-"

Bastard. It's only because Jess told him one time that my secret chocolate stash was in my underwear drawer, and Lee couldn't help himself. I still don't know what the exact purpose of that prank was, actually. I do know that all my chocolate was gone, and it was all Lee's fault.

Now he's _doubly_ getting it when I see him next… Just you wait, Lee Jordan. You will wish you've never been _born_!

* * *

I don't know how he managed it, but he has. Oliver totally managed to find me before I could sneak away and scream at Lee until I get blue in the face. 

"Who in their _right mind_ would have made you Captain?" He asks, half to himself.

"Um, you did, Ollie," I point out, resisting the urge to smack him in the head and brain damage him even more. Speaking of that, I wonder how he got out of the Hospital Wing, anyway? I thought he was still in a coma, and there's no _way_ Madam Pomfry would have let him go. "How'd you get past Pomfry?" I ask curiously, before I can stop myself. "She's a bit-"

"That's not the point!" Oliver bursts out exasperatedly. "You _know_ you're not good enough to be Captain-"

I wince. It hurts a bit- well, if I'm honest, it hurts a _lot_, especially hearing it from your Captain. "Gee, thanks, Ol. Way to boost my self esteem."

"-You're not _nearly_ dedicated enough, and the others respect you _too_ much-"

Wait. "_What?_"

Oliver stops midway through his little rant and blinks at me. "They look _up_ to you, Bell," he explains patiently, the way you would to a two-year-old. "You're like the ring-leader. If you do something, they'll do it too and you're pretty reckless when it comes to Quidditch. You could have caused some serious accidents!"

This is new. Wait- he _can't_ be right. Fred and George are the ones everyone follows, and everyone listens to Alicia because she's the smart, sensible one. Lee's the one that makes the plans even crazier and adds in all the sarcastic comments that Angelina takes seriously because she's got a pretty much one-track mind and thinks about Quidditch even in her sleep. And I'm… I'm just… Katie who goes along with it, really. "That's… You're insane," is all I can think of to say.

He shakes his head seriously. "No, I'm not. You might think that the Weasleys are the ring-leaders, but they're more like… They're more like the public faces," he says, looking down at me to see if I get it. I don't. "You're like a mix of everything," he elaborates, frowning as he sees that I still don't understand.

"You're making me sound like a Mary Sue," I grumble. "Next thing you know you'll be saying I'm magic and that fairies are real!"

"You are and they are," Oliver cracks a grin for the first time throughout the entire conversation.

"Thanks for that," I smirk. I can't even begin to work out what Oliver's trying to say. I guess he's not very good at explaining things because all he ever really thinks about is Quidditch, but at least he's trying. Which is more than I can say for Lee.

… Speaking of Lee, here he comes. And in a very, very bad mood.

"I need to speak to you," he demands, completely ignoring Oliver.

"As you can see, I'm kind of busy," I shrug, gesturing towards Oliver who is looking confused at our frosty greetings.

"I need to speak with you," he repeats, then gives Oliver a very heated look. "_Alone_."

Oliver backs away slowly. "Sure," he says agreeably. "I'll just… go now…" He backs out of the change rooms and quickly exits the building.

There's a silence for a while, broken only by the sound of Oliver's retreating footsteps, when all of a sudden Lee bursts out with something I think he's wanted to say since this morning. "How can you be cheating on me with my _best_ mate, Katie?"

I blink in shock, at both his angry-yet-heart-broken tone, and at the fact that he actually thinks Fred and I are up to something behind his back. "Wha- _what?_" I seem to be saying that a lot, today. I'm sure it makes me sound really stupid and annoying, but I can't help it. It's kind of been a day of accusations and revelations.

"I _saw_ you this morning!" Lee's shouting now. "How long have you been seeing him behind my back?" He turns around and punches a wall, and I'm seriously shocked at the fact that Lee genuinely _believes_ I'm cheating on him! "_How long?_"

"What are you talking about, you prick?" It's my turn for insults and screaming. "We're supposed to be your _best friends_! Why would we do something like that?"

"I don't know!" Lee retorts, his face contorting in anger. "Why would you?"

"I- I can't _believe_ this!" I'm laughing, now. Kind of a disbelieving laugh, and it sounds creepy, even to my ears. "Fred… and me? Fred and _me_? How can you even _think_ I'd do that to you? And Angelina? She's my best friend! Don't even get me start-"

"Angelina's noticed it, too." His voice is eerily quiet, now. It takes me a moment to hear it, I'm so angry. "Why do you think she hasn't been talking to you?"

"I-" I slump down on the seats. I've been wrong in presuming what Angelina's mad about- sure, she probably _is_ miffed about the Captain thing, but there's only three things Angelina Johnson is passionate about: Quidditch; Fred Weasley and her friends. And she thinks that I've taken them all from her. No wonder she's so mad at me.

But still… Fred and me? Why would they even think that? _I saw you this morning_. When Fred was whispering in my ear. If that had been Alicia, nobody would blink an eyelid, and I say as much to Lee.

"But it wasn't, was it, Katie? It's been going on for ages, and not just with Fred- although he's probably the worst of it- it's George, and Oliver, and even that ponce, Aaron Abbot-"

"What the hell?" I shriek. "What's gotten into you? You never used to be like this! Why are you so- so _controlling_ all of a sudden? They're my _friends_, and even if you don't know the concept-"

"Would you like it if Alicia or Angelina or even Stormie were whispering in my ear every other second?" Lee interrupts. Bastard. Fancy bringing Stormie into it- I can't believe he's still on speaking terms with her. She's nothing more than a try-hard.

"How dare you-"

"That's not the point, Katie. You wouldn't like it. Maybe you'd even accuse me of cheating on you with Stormie. It's fine for you to do it, but not for me?"

"I wouldn't accuse you of cheating on me with our best friends though, would I?" I yell at him. "You're in the wrong here, Lee, not me. I am not cheating on you and I never would! Fred and I are best friends, nothing more! Just like you and Ange, or you and Alicia."

Lee's face softens when he hears me say it out loud, and I can see him doubt his own reasoning. "You're… You're sure?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure! If I ever decide to get into small broom closets conveniently devoid of brooms with other guys, you'll be the first person I'll tell," I snap at him angrily. I can't believe he even had the gall to accuse me of cheating on him with Fred, of all people.

"Oh. Well… That's okay, then." He plops down beside me and looks at me hesitantly. "So… are we okay, then?"

I gape at him. I can't believe the prick just thought he could accuse me of that and then think everything is okay! "No, we are _not_ okay, you bastard!" I stand up and point a finger at him. "How can you say all that and just think we can go back to normal! How can you even think-" I break off, shaking my head. "In fact, we are so not okay it's not even funny."

"What?"

"We are _over_, Lee Jordan."

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, so this was pretty much a Katie-feels-sorry-for-herself chapter. Haha, bet you weren't expecting the last line, were you? Huh? Huh?

Sorry if I made Lee a bit of a prick in this chapter. But even the infamous Lee Jordan has to have insecurities some time. But anyway, you could always review and let me know what you think... please?

Please forgive me for spelling and grammar mistakes. It's midnight. Give me some credit. :D


	28. Pink Hair AND Pink Eyes

**A/N:** Sorry this took me so long to update. I've been having an unbelievable case of Writer's Block, and the teachers all seem to think it'll be fun if they dump a ton of homework on us…

Also, I have come to the conclusion that this isn't going to be finished by the end of the year, lol. Which means I have allllllllll of next year to complete it. Yay! Hahaha. Anyways, read and review!

* * *

**February 2nd**

"Why is McGonagall being so… _generous_?" Fred asks suddenly, wrinkling his nose at the thought of McGonagall actually being _nice_. God, anyone would think from his reaction that she was _never_ nice and kind and warm. 

Well, she's not, but still. Why is he even _questioning_ it? Hey, if being generous suddenly floats her boat, _I'm _certainly not going to complain.

Alicia raises her eyebrows at him. "It's not right…" She murmurs, looking thoughtful. She turns back to the fire sullenly. Hmm, strange. Alicia's not usually the brooding type… She's just, you know, smart and sensible and only has one type of behaviour.

As opposed to me, seeing as how I can be on a massive high and then go through a period where I don't emerge from my room for two days because of a certain person (no names, _Lee_).

Look, I can't help it if I am highly sensitive, okay? Alicia reckons that I have a 'hostile and emotionless exterior' (way to make me feel better, Leesh) but that deep down I'm 'vulnerable, confused and scared easily'.

Scared of _what_, exactly? Being rejected? Um, unless you've forgotten, 'Lic, I was the _rejector_. I should be feeling no pain at all, and _especially_ no guilt, seeing as how he accused me of cheating on him with Fred.

Um, _ewwww_. That'd be like, I don't know, making out with Chris, or something. It's just…

_Ewwww_.

But whatever. It's not like I care, or anything. He is so totally on the frozen tundra of my little friendship circle. In fact, he's not even on the frozen tundra- he's already fallen into the Antarctic Ocean.

Yeah. Ange is between the not-quite-barren field and the kind-of-icy coast, if you know what I mean. I mean, I've forgiven her to her _face_ but that doesn't mean I _forgive_ forgive her. It's only been like a week and a half- she still has another… Oh, I'd say at least another half a week before I completely forget about whatever-it-was she did.

I've forgotten already, although she doesn't know that. I just want to see how much longer she'll keep bringing me chocolate mud cake from the kitchen to 'drown my sorrows' with. And make Oliver mad when he sees my overwhelmingly wobbly stomach, but hey.

It's my _mother's_ fault that I have a snail-like metabolism, okay? If my metabolism was in a race, then it would go so slow all the other metabolisms would finish, come back the next year and beat it whilst it was _still on last year's lap!_

The only unfortunate thing is that I'm not amazingly desirable and wanted. I mean, I think that might have something to do with my flabby stomach, sunken eyes and the chocolate mud cake permanently attached to my mouth, but whatever. Just because I'm not pretty or skinny like Stormie McNamara, or Cho Chang.

Damn Stormie McNamara.

And Cho Chang.

And Cho Chang's friend, the one with the bushy carrot-hair.

She threw a tomato at me during last week's dawn practice.

It hurt.

I mean, who would even _get up_ at _four_ in the _morning_ just to throw a _tomato_ at someone? Even _I_ wouldn't do that.

Unless Lee was with me so I wouldn't fall asleep.

But anyway. That's beside the point. No guy has come up and randomly kissed me so that Lee will get jealous and realise what a freaking _idiot_ he is to have dumped me. I mean, even though I dumped him. Still, the only person who's kissed me in the last week was Norman Norbody, because we had to do this play in Muggle Studies where both of the characters fall in love and then die.

I wouldn't actually know what happens; I didn't read it because I was up until three in the morning attempting to prank a couple of Slytherins with George because Fred was nowhere to be found. I found out later that he was holed up in a broom closet with Ange, because apparently they had merely stepped inside to 'check the condition of the brooms' when Filch unwittingly locked the door.

Well, he _told_ McGonagall it was accidental- personally I think he was just waiting for Mrs Norris to run up and tell him through a series of incomprehensible meows that there were two students doing the dirty in a closet.

Anyway. In this stupid play that we doing because we were studying the writings of a muggle, I was the female lead (some Ravenclaw nominated me because apparently I am an 'extrovert') and Norman Norbody ended up being the male lead because Cedric Diggory politely declined. He said he would rather play Jane's (I think that's the female character, I'm not sure) mother.

What did I tell you? He's just plain _queer_. In both meanings of the word.

And Professor Jervois didn't want us doing anything too unruly, because he said he didn't want to get sued by parents for encouraging their children to participate in frivolous activities. Because of that, our play ended up just being 'subtle glances at the other love interest' (although I _swear_ Norman Norbody was fully gawking at me) and then a kiss just before I stab Norbody's heart out.

It's fun, really, because I just imagine that I'm stabbing Lee. I did that at our last practice, and Cedric was all, "Gee, Katie, do you really think it's supposed to be so… realistic? I mean, Norman's _bleeding_, you know."

Pssh. He was _fine_. Madame Pomfry fixed him right up. I always knew that woman would come in handy eventually.

Anyway. Our play's due today- we have to perform it in front of our _whole_ class, plus the rest of the fifth year. Alicia's the only one bummed about that, because she said she'd rather translate an entire sheet of ancient runes than watch me make out with some random and then have Lee cause a scene.

Ha. As if he will. Norbody, I mean. As if he'll make out with me- he's got no spine. If he had one ounce of courage, he would fully make out with me on stage in front of about fifty people. But does he? No.

Not that I want him to. I mean, ew. Just, it'd be nice to cause a bit of a stir amongst the student population of Hogwarts. And the teachers, I suppose, because they're going to be there, too, and Professor Jervois doesn't want us making out with _anyone_ because he'd promised Dumbledore we wouldn't.

And okay, yeah, I'd like to rub it in Lee's face as well. Even though Alicia was all, "Katie, you can't _possibly_ be that cruel to the poor boy! You practically ripped out his heart and tore it to shreds!" I just gave her a withering look before asking whose side she was on. She replied that yes, she was on mine, of course.

She might have been… _persuaded_ by the fact that I had her precious ancient runes textbook dangling out of the window, as opposed to, say, a framed photo of George and her cuddling.

God, that girl really needs to get her priorities straightened out.

The reason that Fred and Alicia are currently so shocked, though, is because I gave Professor McGonagall my sweetest smile and went, "Professor? Is it possible that I can borrow that pointy hat? I have a play to do, for muggle studies, because I can't even _begin_ to emphasise how important it is that muggles and magical people get along, and our play is-"

"Of course," McGonagall interrupted with a tight smile. I think she might have been trying to get me to shut up, and that she had no _real_ intention of giving me the hat.

So about ten minutes ago I went to her office to ask if I could borrow the hat, because the play is today and everything, and I also managed to con her into giving me an old-fashioned pair of high heels (she swore she'd never worn them, which is the only reason I took them in the end) and a spell to amplify Norbody's voice.

Professor Jervois wants us to use our _natural_ voices, but still let the audience be able to hear us. Naturally, it's not a problem for me to use my natural voice. (Haha, I just made a pun!) It _is_, however, a problem for Norman Norbody.

I don't mean to be rude, or anything, but the dude sounds like a mouse! Looks like one too, now that I come to think of it. Anyway, no one would _ever_ be able to hear him, and so we'd get a crappy mark. For some reason or other, Jervois has decided that the play is worth seventy five per cent of our total mark for the year… and that the exam will only account for ten percent. He started shaking when he talked about the exam, so I think it's safe to assume he's had a bad experience with it.

I can't get a bad mark! How will I be able to do N.E.W.T level muggle studies, otherwise? Also, this is O.W.L.'s, people! And yeah, as much as I roll my eyes at Alicia and pat her on the head like a little dog because of how much she stresses about them, she does kind of have a point. They pretty much determine our lives, and we're only fifteen! (Okay, well, sixteen for _some_ people. Ahem, Ange and Lee.)

If only I had a better group. I know it sounds bitchy, and I _hate_ it when people complain about their groups, because back in muggle-school I was always one of those people that kids would look pointedly at and groan, "I _hate_ this class! It's full of crap people!" Or, "I _hate_ this team! It's full of people who suck!" Or, "Why did I get _this_ group? We're going to fail!"

But still. That was all the way back in muggle-school, when everyone thought I was a freak and I had no friends. Life's tough like that. But now I really _do_ want a better group, because I _really_ want to do this class next year, because we get to go on a camp in some muggle place! For like, a week!

Let's see, the people in my group are… Oh, yeah. Cedric Diggory (aka Jane's mother). He won't be very good, because he's supposed to be the evil villain. He'll be too bus being all, "What? I can't do that! No way. I'm not putting a broken glass bottle to Katie's neck! That might hurt her! Or me!" … At least he thinks of me first, I suppose.

Next, we have Norman Norbody, who is playing Roger, Jane's love and homicidal interest. He absolutely _sucks_ at giving 'subtle glances that are full of intrigue and desire'. More like, his subtle glances are gawks and drool the one time that I was running late and forgot to do the last two buttons of my shirt up, so he could see right down my top. _He_ certainly isn't going to be much use.

The second to last person in our little group is this random Ravenclaw. I think her name is… Julie, or something. I haven't really been paying attention while she's been writing, directing and producing the play (meaning that she's payed two galleons to get both of our hair done so that we 'look the part'). She plays Roger's father, because Cedric had already taken the part of Jane's mother. She's a reasonably good actress, I suppose. I wouldn't know- I haven't actually _watched_ her rehearse once.

I'm the last member of our little quartet. I play Jane, who is out to murder Roger. Jane's mother is out to murder Roger's father because… Well, I'm not too clear on that, but I think it's to do with money. But then again, I thought that his character was a poor beggar… I really should pay more attention to future-determining assignments.

I think what's-her-name, that Ravenclaw… Julie? Yeah, I think she knows that I haven't been playing attention, which is why the one thing she got me to do for the play was borrow a hat off McGonagall. Why she wanted a pointy hat from _McGonagall_, of all people, I will never know. But hey, what what's-her-name wants, what's-her-name gets.

We're all sitting around the Great Hall, waiting for all the rest of the groups to come down and get prepared. Everyone else is due in half an hour, but Alicia and Fred have come down with me for 'emotional support' because they have nothing better to do, apparently.

Yeah. That's right. _I am the life of the party!_ Without me, my friends are nothing. Bwahahaha!

Hey. Truth hurts, buddy.

"Are you ex- _whoa_! What happened to you, Bell?" George asks excitedly, practically bouncing up and down on his feet. He completely ignored his brother and girlfriend, and reaches out cautiously to touch my hair. "You have some wicked locks there." He smirks and wraps it around his finger.

I yank it out of his grasp, wincing as I do so. I think I left a few hundred strands around his finger. I turn my head to look at him, only to see that he's going to be lording this over me for the next, oh, about five years.

Remember how I said what's-her-name paid about two galleons to have our hair done? Yeah, that _included_ me. She didn't just go to the local bargain hairdresser, she went to some upper-class one that I had never even heard of, and guess what this particular high-charging hairdresser did to my beloved blonde hair?

_She died my hair pink!_ PINK. I, Katie Bell, now officially have _pink_ hair.

Alicia notices George's amused expression and grins. "I'd describe it as candy pink," she grins, reaching out to touch it as well. Ha. Now that my hair's turned pink, they all have some sort of fascination with it. No one cared about poor old Katie's hair _before_ it turned pink.

Suddenly she takes a closer look at my face. "K-Katie," she splutters, still peering intently at my eyes, "are your eyes… Are your eyes _pink_?" Then before I can answer, she bursts into such hysterical laughter that she leans forward and smashes her skull against the rock-solid wooden table. She rubs it mid-laugh, but doesn't stop shaking so badly I fear she's having a fit.

That hairdresser? Yeah, it turns out she wasn't _just_ a hairdresser. Apparently, she was also a licensed beautician. I personally think she should have her licence _revoked_ for giving me _PINK_ hair and _PINK_ eyes!

Now I'm an albino with pink hair instead of white-blonde! I mean, not that I had white-blonde hair in the first place, but you get my drift.

I am _never_ going to live this down.

Ever.

"Yeah, yeah," I grimace so hard that I'm surprised my face doesn't turn inside out, "you've had your laughs. Now leave me alone." I turn away from them sulkily and stare up at the stage where another group is running about arranging their props. The students have started trickling in now, so sooner or later I'm going to have to get up and go backstage.

Only to play a pink-haired, pink-eyed Jane in front of the entire year and teachers. I think a few second years are going to be in the audience, as well.

Oh great. Connie Cretin can cheer me and my pinkness on.

"Aw, come on, Bell," Fred pouts. "It's just… You're like…"

"A boy!" George supplies helpfully, then bursting into laughter along with Alicia, who hasn't come up for air yet. I think she's turning blue, which is more than I can say for me… Being pink and all.

Fred snorts as well, but when he sees my face get even stonier, he's all, "Nah, Bell, I meant… You're just really _anti-pink_, is all. And then to see you with pink hair _and_ pink eyes…" Before he can help himself he's laughing, too.

I am so _over_ the whole 'Katie has pink hair? Isn't that simply the _funniest_ thing you've ever heard?' joke. I give them all my most menacing glare and stomp off towards the stage, tripping on a stray bucket as I do so. It clumps on my foot all the way to the stage, but I don't pause to take it off.

It's not like my luck could get any worse, or anything.

"Need any help?" I grouch at a small Slytherin who is setting up the curtains. He looks surprised for a moment, mostly because of my tone, I hope, and then shakes his head. He doesn't even say anything about my hair.

Huh. Maybe after this stupid effing play is over, I'll make friends with him. Although knowing my luck, he's probably one of those second years that suck up to the teachers so that they'll get lots of house points so that all their house-mates will suddenly love them and they'll become popular.

"Katie!" A familiar chirpy voice bounds over to me and grabs me by the hands. Um, maybe this girl doesn't know, but I am _not_ a touchy-feely person.

Especially when I'm in an atrocious mood- like now.

"Katie!" She squeals again, in case I missed her ear-piercing call before. I didn't, honey. No need to worry about my _hearing_, or anything. "Aren't you just so _thrilled_ to be taking part in such a joyous occasion?"

Yeah. "_Thrilled_ to my bones," I joke weakly. She misses the point. "Ha, ha?" I persist. Still no response. I sigh and turn to leave ms-happy-chappy to herself. "Whatev-"

When I turn around, though, someone is staring at me. Or my precisely, my _hair_. I watch him unmovingly. We have a staring contest- he remains unmoving, determined to win. Until his gaze drifts back to my hair.

His shoulders start to shake.

He snorts.

He clasps a hand over his mouth to prevent any noise from leaking out.

It erupts, and all of a sudden he is doubled over, laughing his freaking arse off at _my_ expense. Prick. I shove past him, trying to actually do some damage, but he shakes more from his own laughs than my considerable attempt at physically hurting him.

Of course, I neglect to remember that all the muggle studies people have turned the section of Great Hall we're standing on to a stage. So as I stalk past, I trip and fall down about five stairs to the makeshift 'dressing rooms'. Also known as a couple of unbelievably large cardboard boxes, decorated with swirls and love-hearts and painted lolly-pink and daybreak-blue, respectively.

* * *

"Katie? Katie, you have to come out. Our play is on next." 

"No," I answer stubbornly, my eyes drifting to the 'roof'. I'm in a 'dressing room' which is barely tall enough for _me_ to stand up in, let alone anyone like Lee or Cedric. Someone's drawn 'C.D. luvs N.N.' on the roof. Huh. Wonder what _those_ particular initials stand for.

"Look, hon, I know you don't have much self-confidence, but I'm sure you'll do _marvellous_!" Hon? No self-confidence? Marvellous? Where do they _get_ people like this? She's a joke!

"Nuh uh. Not comin' out. No way." Cool. I sound like a real red neck.

"Katie, _please_-"

"Bell?"

Hmm. New voice. Yet disturbingly familiar… "Yeah?" Oh well. At least it's nicer than saying, "Rack off, loser!"

"Get your fucking arse out of this box right now!" What? No please? God, _someone_ is in a bit of a rancid mood. No names, _Lee Jordan_.

Suddenly, I've lost my will to hide away. If I have to act in front of all those people, well, I'll just hope it goes as quickly as possible. "Humph." It's hard work trying to get out of the dim, dark little box… I pop my head out, giving Lee the best 'I-hate-you' glare I can muster when half of my body is leaning out of a box and the other half can't even touch the floor.

It tips over, so that I am inelegantly sprawled all over the floor at Lee's feet. God, karma is the _biggest_ bitch I have ever had the misfortune to meet. It's even worse than I am, I'm telling you.

Lee just stands there, smirking at me with this weird look in his eyes, when what's-her-name goes, "Katie! Pull your cloak down! Everyone can see your knickers!" Oh. So _that's_ what Lee was staring at when he had the weird look in his eyes. It's not my fault my mother busy me My Little Pony underwear! I _like_ the ponies, okay?

Glad we got that all cleared up.

"Katie," she hisses. I swear to God if I hear my name from her mouth one more time, I will turn around and _punch_ something! "We're on!" She pushes me out through the curtains.

Stage fright is a horrible thing. Like, if this play were solely in front of my friends, I would have _no problem_ what-so-ever about doing it. Hell, I'd probably add in a rendition of 'Mary had a little lamb' purely for my own amusement. But when it's in front of a bunch of people you don't know, let alone like, it's is actually really scary.

The next thing I notice is that the second years are actually here as well. Huh. I spot Fred, George, Alicia and Ange in the front row. Ange catches my eye and gives me a little smile.

"Oh, darling!" Ha ha ha. It's Cedric's character. He comes striding onto the stage, and he gives me a faux hug and kiss on the cheek. At least, I hope it is. "Have you seen him?"

"Who?" I ask stupidly, forgetting that I'm supposed to be saying my line, which is, "Of _course, _dah-ling. He's such a spunk bubble!"

Cedric frowns the tiniest frown I've ever seen. "Roger?" He says hesitantly, as if he's not sure if this is part of the play or not.

I grin widely. "Of _course_, dah-ling, honey-pot, my little bumblebee. Who hasn't seen that delicious excuse for a _wo_man?" Um, WTF, Katie?

Cedric begins to look a little nervous. "He's looking at you, dah-ling."

I glance towards the corner, where Norman Norbody is standing, looking absolutely shocked that I'm making up the lines as I go along. "Oh, _that_ Roger?" I ask lightly. "He _is_ adorable! I just want to take him home and rav-"

"Excuse me!" What's-her-name interrupts before I can finish that sentence. Good thing too, because a few of the audience members are getting the giggles. Except for the second years, because they hadn't understood what I'd been about to say.

Ah. If only _I_ were that young and naïve, the world would be a better place.

"I am glad I have found you at last," What's-her-name recites perfectly. "I have something to confess." God, why is this play so boring? It's a good thing I've been tuning out during all the rehearsals, because otherwise I could have been bored to death… or something.

Anyway. My group is looking at me expectantly. Say a something, Katie. The first thing that pops into your head… "Coke or pepsi?"

Damn. Gotta stop watching Alicia's muggle T.B. thing. It is seriously starting to turn me into one of those robot-girls that my brothers date. You know, the ones that are all, "Like, oh my God! I like, so totally love your… What do you call those things on your head again?"

"Katie," what's-her-name stage whispers, "you have to walk back-stage and wait for your cue." Cue… Isn't that one of those sticks that muggles use to play a ball game with? See, I _do_ listen in muggle studies! Well, once in a while, anyway.

So anyway, I give her a salute to let her know that I got her message loud and clear and move to walk through the curtains. Unfortunately for me, though, I don't watch where I'm going (ie. look at the _floor_) and so trip on something. Or more specifically, Norman Norbody's outstretched foot.

And because I trip on stupid bloody Norman Norbody's outstretched foot, I go flying. What's a human's natural instinct when they're falling? Yeah, to reach out and grab something. Like a curtain. And when said human has consumed an astonishing amount of chocolate mud cake during the last week, the extra weight does _not_ do anything to help keep the curtain stable.

So, _I_ fall to the ground and the entire _curtain_ falls to the ground, revealing the next group, who are (for some strange reason) getting changed behind the curtain instead of the 'dressing rooms' (aka cardboard boxes).

It's like a domino effect. The curtain falls on my group, who all simultaneously start yelling and screaming (Cedric has an unbelievably high-pitched scream), the people who were getting changed all start yelling and screaming (which, ironically, includes Lee… What an _excellent_ way to get back at him for practically abusing me via his stupid loud-speaker during the Quidditch match) and then the audience is caught between yelling, laughing and perving on the half-naked bunch of amateur actors.

"Er… This will be continued," Professor Jervois stands up and announces, much to the disappointment of the audience. "It seems one of our actors is a bit unsteady on her feet." This observation results in a particularly loud laugh from my friends. "Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the show."

Show, my arse. They enjoyed the _perving_. Oh, and watching me make a dick of myself… But these days, that goes without saying.

We're still underneath the curtain when I hear Norman Norbody go, "Hey, Katie? I'm sorry about putting that weird mixture in your drink this morning. I just wanted to help you to chill out a bit, you know? I mean, if there's any hard feelings-"

Oh my God. He _spiked_ my drink? Not cool, dude. There are serious health issues, right there. I could have been allergic to whatever it was that he slipped I my drink, but did he care? No. Oh well, at least that explains why I forgot all my lines… I _knew_ I had paid at least a _bit_ of attention.

_Oh my God._ He _spiked_ my drink! That also explains why I didn't fight to the death about my pink hair and pink eyes!

Heh. It's funny that I don't go all Rabid-Katie on him for giving me cause to worry about my health (hey, I might only live to I'm a hundred now, instead of one hundred and one) but I try and attack him when I remember the afore mentioned colour of my hair.

"You _prrrick_!" I lunge for him, although I can't actually _see_ anything underneath the curtain. I just miss grabbing his foot, because he turns away and scuttles back the way he came from.

I'm about to have another go when all of a sudden I hear Lee's voice. "Katie? Who are you playing tonsil hockey with _now_?" He asks casually, his tone laced with amusement.

I'm glad he finds it funny… Although he won't when I find out what Norman Norbody put in my drink, because then I'll put it in _Lee's_ drink and find out how he likes it.

Oh, and maybe get him to do the chicken dance in front of the whole school during lunch.

After all, one can never have _too_ much revenge, can they?

* * *

Okay, sorry about the mostly unedited chapter: FanFiction is being unbelievably screwy about saving changes to the chapter. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my one shot, _I Don't Think China Heard That_. And if you haven't read/reviewed it, go do so as soon as you review this chapter, lol. Don't you just love shamelessly flaunting your own work :D 


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